


always want to die (sometimes)

by cryystal_m00n



Series: obligatory cliche tropes [18]
Category: The Rose (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Blood, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Injury, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moral Dilemmas, Possibly Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, Warlocks, hints for possible ot4 feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryystal_m00n/pseuds/cryystal_m00n
Summary: a pact made with an evil warlock ends up tormeting hajoon until he breaks. only pieces of him are left and the same vile mage has to put them back together.
Relationships: Kim Woosung | Sammy/Lee Jaehyeong | Jeff, Lee Hajoon | Dylan/Park Dojoon | Leo, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: obligatory cliche tropes [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1080975
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	always want to die (sometimes)

**Author's Note:**

> yeeyee hbd hajoon my tiniest baby and babiest dude to ever exist:((( just like the other bday fics, i hope they never find this because GOD, that would be... embarrassing... anygay, this fic took me WAYYYY too long for what it ended up being but im so fucking glad its done and out and ngl im proud of it. i hope you enjoy it, my dudes, dudettes and non-binary friends <3
> 
> now, onto the triggering stuff! there is a stab wound happening when hajoon goes into the forest alone so please, if there is a chance of you being triggered do skip that!
> 
> near the last parts there are ~kinda~ graphic descriptions of being burnt so again, please look out for that, i really do not wish to make anyone feel uncomfortable with this fic

hajoon’s country was, to put it bluntly, going to hell. the whole kingdom was slowly, but surely, falling apart and there was _nothing_ he could do but watch as more of his people died from starvation, as their crops faltered with the lack of rain, as what his family had built and cared for was dying.

everyone he had consulted told him the same thing: that it was his fault the kingdom’s fate was sealed like this; he bore a curse, one that not even the greatest witches and warlocks could break.

the only solution he had was either to live as the country fell, or to put an end to his own life, thus saving what was left of the land and people.

everyone but one person told him this: park dojoon, the vilest warlock in all known lands, had sworn to lift the curse and help save his country at the price of hajoon’s hand in marriage.

he gave him a year, no more, and no less than three hundred and sixty-five days to think over his offer. hajoon knew what his answer would be before the warlock even finished speaking. but with a heavy heart, he left the house of who was to become his husband, and walked all the way back to the castle, where he never mentioned the proposed deal to anyone else.

that is until the last day of the year came, and he found himself in a dilemma with an evil warlock waiting outside his balcony door and his best friend, ready to draw his sword at the man. before hajoon even managed to explain everything.

he had to come clean to jaehyeong, and watch helplessly as the younger knight lost his mind over the recklessness hajoon possessed.

“can i do _anything_ to change your mind?” he begged, close to tears, as hajoon stood with his head hung low in front of him.

he wanted to shake his head and tell him he had the answer, but the warlock’s voice stopped him, “if you wish to speak with the prince alone, i can leave until i’m called for again. but i am sorry to announce you, knight, that your friend here made the decision long ago, and whilst you may run your mouth and waste the oxygen in his chamber, nothing you say could have an impact on what he had set his mind to.” and with one final bow, dojoon disappeared in a thick, black fog, the door to his balcony swinging shut.

“what the actual _fuck,_ hajoon?! you can’t just go and— and make a deal with the fucking spawn of satan! and for what? what has he offered you that made you want to sell your soul like that?”

hajoon bit the inside of his cheek, not knowing _what_ to say to his best friend. he had a speech made up, one that explained everything, that said all there was needed and left nothing in the dark. but now, deep in the hole he dug for himself, he had forgotten everything.

“he… he promised me he will save relosea! that he will put a stop to the death and starvation, and that if i were to marry him, he would help us flourish again as a nation! i don’t want my people to die, jaehyeong!” _i don’t want to die,_ he continued in his mind.

jaehyeong sighed and fell on the king’s bed. he looked close to breaking down, and even though hajoon felt the same way, he had to be strong for them both. “promise me one thing?” jaehyeong said, not looking at the elder.

“yes?”

“don’t fall for him. don’t let your walls down when you’re next to this malicious man, and most importantly: don’t believe a word he says about what he may harbour for you. we don’t know what he wants, but i am willing to bet it’s not a fairy tale.”

smiling, hajoon lifted the knight’s hand and pressed a kiss on his knuckles. “see, that’s why i made you my right hand man, hyeongie. you’re always the smarter one between us two.”

though he could not see his features, the king knew the fondness jaehyeong had written on his face. “well someone has to stop you from killing yourself.”

“indeed you do…”

jaehyeong sighs, letting his hand run over hajoon’s arm and resting on his head, slowly petting the soft hair. “we’ll be ok, right? nothing bad will happen to you, _right?”_ he sounds desperate, despite how gentle his voice is.

“nothing, hyeong. i’ll still be me, i’m still your best friend, even when i… marry dojoon, ok? there’s no need to worry about me.” hajoon looks up at his guard, an arm's length away from pulling him into a bone crushing hug and never letting go. “i’ll be here, taking care of the kingdom, the castle… of you, darling.” the king finally closes the distance between them, resting his head on jaehyeong’s chest.

“you better not be making a decision you’ll regret or else i swear i will punch you!” jaehyeong threatens, but with the way the words are muffled from having buried his face in hajoon’s hair, they hold no malice. just worry.

“have i ever disappointed you, jae? in the entire time we’ve known each other, have i ever done something that ended poorly?” he can hear jaehyeong’s brain trying to decide if he should tell the truth or not. “don’t you dare answer that, you idiot!”

“ok, ok!” jaehyeong laughs, barely dodging the punch hajoon throws at his stomach. “i trust you, joonie. i always will.”

“thank you,” hajoon says, sincerity lacing his voice. he means it in every single way possible. he doesn’t know what he’d do if jaehyeong suddenly left him.

pressing his lips to the top of hajoon’s head, the guard finally pulls back, though a bit hesitant. “i’ll go so that you can talk with him, but if you need me, _yell_ and i will be here in seconds, understood?”

hajoon rolls his eyes fondly. “ _yes,_ darling.”

walking over to the balcony door, jaehyeong sticks his head out. “you can come in, you sack of dirty old socks!” he yells, not bothering to wait for the warlock to step inside before closing the door. it doesn’t open even when jaehyeong steps out, leaving hajoon alone and scared of what he’s about to do.

there’s a rush of wind, the rustle of his thick, blue curtains, and then there is a body behind him.

hajoon takes a deep breath and turns around to face the warlock. he’s wearing a mocking expression as he bows in front of him. “your majesty,” he says, before straightening his back and grinning at hajoon. “or shall i call you lover?”

“can you shut up and just tell me what you want from this? i want this over with as fast as possible, ok?”

“of course, lamb, anything my sweet husband wishes for.” dojoon’s fingers rest under hajoon’s chin, as he slowly lifts his head up. there wouldn’t normally be much difference between their heights, but dojoon is renowned for his preference for heels. more exactly, an old pair of black boots with heels that would put any royalty to shame with how intricate the details that adorn them are. “i want you; your body, energy, soul, everything to be bound to me, darling.”

“if i accept… the kingdom will be saved, right?”

“oh, of course, little lamb! your curse, everything will be lifted just like that,” he snaps his fingers, dark red and black smoke coming out of them. “you just have to accept and let me seal the deal.”

hajoon’s eyes lock with the warlock’s, not breaking contact even when he can see the fire ready to burn him to a crisp in dojoon’s eyes. “then do it,” he says, all traces of fear of what is to happen leaving his body. “seal the deal. i accept to marry you and bind our souls together.”

the fingers on his chin are gone, the touch now on his elbow. hajoon thinks the warlock will kiss him, but to his surprise, dojoon just lets his other hand rest on top of his chest, right above his heart. there is a slight burning sensation, one that doesn’t hurt, on the contrary, it makes hajoon want to succumb to it and let it wrap itself all around him, and then the hand there is gone.

“there you go, lamb. our souls are now one,” dojoon whispers, leaning in close, so close that hajoon can smell the smoke off his skin, can see the remains of black dust on the apples of dojoon’s cheeks. “and your little kingdom will be safe. i’ll be back soon to finish discussing the arrangements of our wedding, darling.” the warlock turns around, ready to disappear in a cloud of fog again, but hajoon’s voice stops him.

“wait! that’s-- that’s it? we’re wed now? no ceremony, no nothing?” the king hates himself for letting the disappointment be so obvious in his voice.

“i don’t need one of your priests or priestesses to tell me we are married. but if you wish for one, then who am i to say no to my husband? we may have one whenever you want, wherever you want and with whomever you wish to invite.” dojoon bows just as deep as before, his thin white shirt revealing his collarbones. “until then, your majesty, do not forget that you may call for me when you wish. think of me, and i shall be beside you soon enough.” the balcony door opens, cold air slipping inside his bedroom. “have a good night, lamb. may you dream of me.”

dojoon is gone before hajoon can register what he said. they can have a wedding, dojoon _wants_ to give hajoon the impression that this has been done out of love…

the king sighs, feeling his head begin to hurt with the conflict that bubbles inside, ready to spill already. he closes the door gently, letting his forehead rest on the glass.

this is for relosea, to save it and bring back what once made his parents proud. there is no love when it comes to an arranged marriage, especially when it comes to one where magick interferes. hajoon knows that, he’s not naive. he will not fall for the warlock’s charms, not when he made a promise to his best friend to keep himself clean of whatever he may imagine could bloom inside his chest.

hajoon slips under the bed covers and tries to ignore the feeling of wax melting on his skin where dojoon had touched him. he focuses instead, on the light he had forgotten to turn off, and while the prodding, violent brightness burns intricate lines on the back of his eyes, hajoon falls asleep.

* * *

hajoon has always wanted a simple wedding, ever since his mother told him he can get married when he’s older. now, with the opportunity to finally get what he wished for, hajoon is… unsure of his selfish wish. dojoon did tell him he will participate in whatever childish ceremony he prepares, but for some weird reason, hajoon doesn’t want the warlock to _not_ enjoy himself at his own wedding.

so he decides that for now, his childhood dream can be put somewhere in the back of his mind, where he won’t be able to think of it with regret. there is no need for a wedding, not when the sole reason he… married his husband was to save his kingdom. he does, however, still think about matching golden bands on their ring fingers quite often. so much so, that a few days later after his and dojoon’s souls have been bound, he wakes up with a wedding band on his finger; one he doesn’t remember having when he went to sleep.

the ring is simple, a smooth band that wraps nicely around his finger, but when hajoon takes it off to inspect it closer, he notices the same detail that is on the warlock’s heels decorating the inside of it. it’s beautiful, the symbols reminding hajoon of some runes he’s seen in one of his scholar’s books years ago.

some of the runes seem to slowly blend into the smooth surface facing upwards, but hajoon doesn’t think much of the small detail. after all, the deep burgundy filling the runes doesn’t look to be bleeding into the ones people can see.

he thinks it’s stunning, of course he does, and with a content smile, he slides the ring back, and prepares the excuse he will give jaehyeong when he takes notice of it later in the day.

* * *

“you’re falling apart, hajoon.” jaehyeong’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. he’s been staring at the same page of the letter for some time now, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say jaehyeong is worried.

hajoon merely smiles at his guard, and pushes his hair out of his eyes. “i have no idea what you’re talking about. but look!” the king pushes the piece of paper in the younger’s face. “sungjin says the crops are starting to flourish again!”

“it’s not the right season for them to _be_ healthy, your highness,” jaehyeong argues, grabbing hajoon’s wrists gently, “this is not ok, joon. he’s… whatever he’s doing, it’s taking a toll on you!”

reaching for the pen to begin writing his reply to sungjin, hajoon ignores jaehyeong’s words. he knows the guard means well, but god, hajoon would really appreciate it if the man didn’t; just this once.

“you’re imagining things, jae.” the guard’s hand twitches, and hajoon doesn’t even think as his own hand grabs jaehyeong’s. “there’s nothing wrong, darling.”

jaehyeong tightens his hold on hajoon’s hand. “i can still murder him, right?”

hajoon smiles. “of course you can. but now, i really need to write this letter, so if you don’t mind…”

“i get it.” smiling reluctantly at the king, jaehyeong bows. “i’ll let you do what you need to, my lord.”

“stop calling me that, hyeongie,” hajoon says with an eye roll. “now go, i’m pretty sure woosung has been looking for you all day.”

“don’t remind me,” jaehyeong groans, “he’s the last person i want to see.” the man takes his leave after, still grumbling under his breath about the older royal guard who seems to have taken a liking to making jaehyeong’s life as hard as possible. hajoon finds it funny, but he’d never admit it. after all, everyone knows about jaehyeong’s hatred for kim woosung and everything he stands for. it’s hilarious, really.

it’s been hardly a month since the deal with the warlock happened, and ever since then, hajoon could feel himself getting weaker with each day that passed. it doesn’t bother him; hajoon has always been a weak child, prone to illness and misfortune, so this resurfacing doesn’t phase him. what does surprise him is just how often he finds himself falling asleep without meaning to, as if all his energy has been sucked out of his body.

the young king blames it on his poor state of rest, attributes it to the increasing levels of stress that arise with the country’s newfound prosperity. he doesn’t think much as his eyes slip shut, heavy with sleep, while still at his reading desk.

and when he wakes up, safe and sound in his bed, tucked neatly under the covers, hajoon can only think of jaehyeong going through all this trouble to get him a few hours of decent sleep.

* * *

dojoon rarely visits him, despite them being… married, and when he does, it’s only because in his sleep deprived state, hajoon has thought of the warlock being next to him, probably a side effect of their souls being bound. it makes hajoon feel as if he’s being a burden to him.

and despite hajoon waking up in the middle of the night clinging tightly to the warlock, he never stays until the morning comes. hajoon always wakes up cold and just the smallest bit more energized, but never enough to get him through the days ahead of him.

and so, the cycle repeats itself; hajoon passes out from exhaustion, jaehyeong carries him to bed, he wakes up holding onto dojoon as if he’s afraid the warlock would leave, and wakes up alone. his sleep is always dreamless nowadays, but even when swallowed by darkness, the void around him tickling his skin, hajoon still feels… something. a weight, a body, someone grounding him there, though it is far away. he never strays too far into the nothingness he dreams of.

but the kingdom is blooming! and people are starting to look up to him again! and… and he likes being of use to them, not just the curse bearing child of their late beloved king and queen.

hajoon is selfish, he’d never deny that, but in his own way, he’s selfless. he’d much rather let this marriage and deal kill him than let what his parents and ancestors built crumble to dust.

he has only one wish, one that proves his selfishness: to live through the pain and see his people happy once more.

he’s still not sure of what dojoon is using his energy for, but he hopes the warlock will be done soon, otherwise, hajoon really doubts he’ll be able to witness his kingdom in full bloom again.

* * *

“your majesty, may i have a word with you?” woosung stops him just as hajoon stands up to leave the meeting.

hajoon smiles at the guard, trying to make it look as reassuring as possible. his head is killing him, but he’s the king; he can’t ignore his guards just because of some simple headache. “of course, darling. what is it?”

with a careful hand on hajoon’s lower back, woosung leads the king farther away from the mass of people, leaving behind the lords, ladies and guards to watch them with worried expressions. after all, hajoon did fall asleep again during the meeting only to wake up when his head snapped forward.

woosung moves away from the king, standing in front of him. his voice is low and calculated as he speaks, “your majesty, we have news the reds are trying to infiltrate the castle again. wonpil said he’s overheard their leader say they don’t believe the curse has been lifted just because the drought has stopped. they think magick is involved, and not the good kind.”

hajoon tries his best to not let his worries overcome him. “did wonpil say when they’re thinking of attacking?” he speaks in an even voice, cold, impartial, worthy of a king.

“not yet,” woosung shakes his head, “he said he’ll stay around and report if anything were to happen, your majesty. but until then, i think it’s best you don’t go out of the castle unattained. your state isn’t the best either, and if one of the reds were to catch you alone when you are close to losing conscious, lord knows they won’t hesitate.”

hajoon’s heart is pounding. he thought that if he brings relosea back to what it was the red army would back off, at least for some time. but the reds never sleep, never stop demanding the fall of hajoon for bringing the death of his parents and the collapse of their precious nation. the reds couldn’t give one single fuck about the weight hajoon has to live with, knowing that because of him, his parents are no more. they’re blood thirsty rebels, who won’t stop until the king is dead.

“i’ll tell jaehyeong to never lose sight of you, hajoon,” woosung’s gentle voice brings him back. the informality only makes his heart ache more. woosung only uses his name when the situation is grave.

“don’t worry, darling,” hajoon breaks out into a smile again, pushing the thoughts of death out of his mind. “i’ll be fine! i can take care of myself!”

“hajoon-ah… we need to take care of you. it’s our duty as the royal guards. our families made a promise to your parents to protect you, we swore an oath.”

hajoon doesn’t want to be a burden to them. they’ve done more than enough taking care of him until now. but he knows an oath is an oath and no one can break it this easily, not even the king himself.

“alright… but don’t forget to take care of yourself too, understood? you’re just as important as me. all of you.”

woosung bows, the same tense air around him, “of course, my king. do you wish to go to your study to look over the reports again, or are you tired?”

the king throws a quick glance to the clock hanging on the wall, squinting to see the time better. “i think i’d like to go to the library. join me there, darling?”

woosung straightens his back, moving to stand next to hajoon again, arm back on the small of his back, “let’s go.”

the crowd of people has dissipated, only the assigned guards still remaining in the room. hajoon can’t help but feel disappointed when he doesn’t find jaehyeong anywhere amongst them.

“he left to check around the perimeter of the palace with harin. he should be back in a few hours at most,” woosung informs him, speaking in a hushed voice as they walk through the palace open halls. “if you wish for me to leave you alone in the library, i will send jaehyeong to you when he’s done.”

hajoon nods, smiling thankfully at how understanding woosung is even in a situation like this, when the reds could attack any time. “i don’t mind you staying, woosung. but i also know you have other things to do than just babysit me.”

“hajoon.” there is no room for argument and the king knows it.

“sorry,” he says, not sounding apologetic one bit. “but i mean it. if you have something better to do, don’t hesitate to leave me alone. your mother taught me how to fight, remember? i can protect myself.”

woosung snorts. “and yet you still scream when you see a spider.”

“they’re scary, woo!” hajoon argues, pushing himself away from woosung. “and you could never know if they’re venomous or not!”

“your majesty…” the look the blond gives him is enough to shut woosung up. “ok, ok, they’re very terrifying!”

with a roll of his eyes, hajoon walks ahead of the guard, leaving him a few meters behind thanks to his slightly longer legs. woosung catches up with him quickly, years of having to keep up with jaehyeong during their patrolling having paid off in him learning to take longer steps.

once they step into the library, woosung slightly out of breath, hajoon practically disappears from the guard’s side. he has one place in mind only, hidden in the back: the manuscripts his parents wrote, from the beginning of their ruling to the end. he’s been through them far too many times to keep count, never finding anything that could be of help, but it became a habit to reread them at least once every full moon.

except that today, he pulls out some of the older king and queen’s writings as well. he finds kim heechul’s manuscripts, some of choi seunghyun’s, he even manages to pull out two rather dusty and deteriorated parchments from kwon boah, the first queen of relosea.

hajoon is careful as he makes his way down to the first floor of the library, holding the books and parchments close to his chest so as to not drop them. all this time, woosung watches him amused from near the entrance, body relaxed yet alert to any foreign sound that may come.

he gets to work as soon as he finds his already written notes, spreading them all over the long table.

his parents’ writings are the same: talking about the prosperity of relosea, about the treaties signed with neighboring countries, about the economy, about hajoon’s birth and how excited they are to finally have a baby. nothing mentioning an evil witch or warlock putting a curse on hajoon, nothing mentioning symptoms of their death.

the entries just stopped a week before his parents fell sick.

a few hours have passed by the time hajoon is done with their manuscripts, having fallen asleep a few times during his reading, and when he looks up to see where woosung is, he finds the library empty. there is a piece of paper next to his elbow which he didn’t take note of until now.

the message written is simple and formal, just woosung informing him he’s left to check on the new guards coming in to take the night shift, but that he should not worry, for jaehyeong will come soon.

paying it no mind, hajoon goes back to looking for that one piece of the puzzle that will set things going. kim heechul’s notes bring nothing new, just information about the relationship between relosea and its neighbors for the most part, but near the end, there is _something_ written in a language hajoon has never seen before.

hajoon puts it down. he’s finally getting somewhere, even if he can’t understand what or how this new information will help him. he can feel it in his bones, deep down; this is meant for him to find and use in his research.

the smell of smoke hits him first. he whips his head around, trying to locate where its coming from, only to see dojoon right across from him, feet propped on the table, while his whole body leans on the back of his chair. “long time no see, lamb,” dojoon smiles, that wicked one he only seems capable to plaster on his face, “missed me?”

“what do you want?” hajoon spits out, glaring at the warlock’s surprisingly clean shoes. the heels are just as impressive as always, though, they look even taller than the last time.

a brief look of surprise passes on dojoon’s face, before it quickly shifts back to his usual mocking smile. “why i just came to visit my husband, little lamb! i’ve missed him so…” dojoon sighs, “why else would i be in your castle, risking my life because of that tall guard of yours?”

the king continues to look at his husband with the same unimpressed face. “your actual reason?”

“i was bored…” for a moment, hajoon swears he sees a dusting of pink on the top of dojoon’s cheeks, but it’s gone before he can look again. “anyway!” dojoon claps, pushing his feet off the table and standing up. “what are we investigating?”

“ _i_ am looking into something. _you_ are doing nothing,” hajoon tells him, going back to his reading and trying to ignore the warlock breathing down his neck. he’s reading over hajoon’s shoulder, but no matter how much he tries to hide the notes, dojoon seems to be one step ahead of him.

“little lamb, aren’t we a team? don’t you want some of my knowledge? i could tell you what you’re looking for,” the warlock whispers in his ear, sending shivers down the king’s spine. “for the right price, of course.”

hajoon glances over his shoulder at the brunet, finding him smirking at him. he’s so close, hajoon can distinguish the single honey brown dot in his right iris. was it always there? he doesn’t remember it from the last time dojoon has been this close to his face. “i’ll never make another deal with you, warlock, so spare your breath. if you really want to be useful, why not make me less tired?”

“can’t do, honey bun,” dojoon whistles, straightening his back. lord, hajoon hates the height advantage the heels give him. “i need your power, remember?” he turns on his heels without twisting his ankles, which to hajoon is a feat on its own. the sound of the pointed heels hitting the marble flooring goes farther and farther with each steps dojoon takes. hajoon has no idea where he’s heading to, and he refuses to give the warlock the satisfaction by turning to look.

“and what, if i may ask, do you need my power for? the curse has been lifted long ago, am i correct?” the silence he gets from dojoon makes his heart skip a beat. “warlock?” he asks, hoping, _praying_ that dojoon didn’t answer because he is too far away to hear him.

“about that…”

hajoon stands abruptly, his vision covered by spider web like lines. he pushes through and marches to where dojoon is pretending to look at a book, back turned to the king. hajoon’s hand grips the warlock’s elbow harshly, turning him around and pushing him back until he slams into the giant bookcase. “ _what_ about the curse, warlock?” he spits out.

“easy with the force, little lamb,” dojoon says, far too relaxed, “i bruise easily.”

“if you don’t answer my question i won’t hesitate to stab you in the stomach and watch as you slowly bleed to death in front of me, _warlock,_ so stop beating around the bush.” his forearm presses on dojoon’s chest to keep the man pressed on the bookcase. hajoon can feel a faint tremor under his arm, but with how he’s shaking with rage, it may as well be his own.

“listen, lamb, your curse is harder to undo than i thought, alright? no need to break my ribs because of the wicked witch that cursed your family put an ancient spell on you lot. dead languages are not my forte, unfortunately. but don’t worry that pretty head of yours, i’m using your energy for good, not satanic rituals… most of the time.” dojoon dodges the hit with ease, reappearing behind hajoon in his characteristic black smoke.

dojoon trips him, making hajoon fall on the ground. he pushes him around until he’s resting on his back, and hajoon doesn’t know how he feels about the heel that’s right next to his head, inching closer and closer until dojoon is pushing his foot on the king’s chest. many thoughts run through hajoon’s head at this moment, but the worst may just be that part of him _likes_ having dojoon pin him down like that.

the point of the warlock’s heel stabs at hajoon’s chin, making him tilt his head back. the smirk widening on dojoon’s face is anything but pretty. “should i go easy on you, little lamb, or do you like the pain?” the king bares his teeth at him, ignoring the way the heel pushes into his chest, sending jolts of pleasure down his body.

too soon the foot is gone, and dojoon’s smoke lifts hajoon up until he’s standing straight again, only the remains of his blush being a testimony of what has just happened.

hajoon glares at him, hard enough to make dojoon quiver slightly. the king curses the added height, he hates the disadvantage of having to look up at the warlock. “explain yourself.” there is no room for argument unless dojoon wants to be stabbed, and by the dramatic sigh he gives hajoon, he knows that too.

“well, what else is there to explain, my _king_? your curse is one of the most intricate i have ever seen and unless you know _who, what_ or _why_ they cursed your family then it will take me some more time until i can lift it.” dojoon plops back down on the chair. “and i’ve been using your energy to fuel the spells i’ve casted on your kingdom. what’s left of it, anyway. your energy, i mean,” the warlock clarifies, not meeting hajoon’s eyes. “whatever evil witch or wizard or demon cursed your family made sure to link the energy to the youngest’s core. meaning you’re the reason your land is like this but only because the hex is feeding from your power.” dojoon stops picking at his nails. “does it make sense?”

“in a way,” hajoon hums, walking back to where dojoon is now. he doesn’t sit, instead he goes straight for his notes. “but why _me_ when my family has ruled for countless years? it makes no sense! you said the youngest fuels the curse, right? but the kingdom has flourished until _i_ came into the picture! none of these talk about a curse!” he exclaims, angrily pointing at the manuscripts.

“maybe my theory about the youngest is not correct then… do you have any siblings, king?” dojoon asks, frowning at hajoon.

“not that i know of.”

dojoon nods, more to himself than to hajoon, and makes a move to grab the scattered papers. “well, your majesty, if you don’t mind, i will take these with me and look into it some more.” but hajoon is faster than him, surprisingly. he grabs dojoon’s wrist, stopping him just as his fingers were to wrap around the oldest parchments. hajoon’s fingers burn for a second, before the smoke coming out of the warlock dissipates.

“you’re not taking them away. i don’t trust you enough to let you take important papers out of the castle,” hajoon’s voice is even as he continues to glare at the brunet. “if you want to look through them you can do so here, but those do not leave this room unless it is _i_ who takes them out. understood?”

with a roll of his eyes -- his very pretty eyes; lords, hajoon hates how beautifully the brown shade looks when hit with the lights coming from the chandelier above them -- dojoon snatches his arm back. “fine, whatever you majesty wishes. but don’t expect me to come to your room and ask for permission to look through them. i study better at night, and you,” the warlock’s finger stabs lightly at hajoon’s chest, “need the sleep. your kingdom requires a lot of energy to keep it alive.”

“thanks,” the blond says dryly.

dojoon shrugs. “so tell your pretty guard to _not_ make a move on me please. not that i mind, he’s quite handsome, but i wouldn’t want to break our marriage so soon, you know? i’d rather do it after the deal is consumed.”

“so… you want to break the marriage after you’re done helping me? but… but it makes no sense! why did you ask me to be your husband if you were just going to-- to break the union? how does that even help _you_ , warlock? what even is your part of the bargain? you’re taking my energy, sure, but that can’t be the only reason you agreed to help!”

hajoon is fuming. the warlock tricked him into-- into marrying him and for what? for him to walk out of hajonn’s life as soon as the deal is completed? their souls are _bound_ , hajoon is… he is dojoon’s _battery_ , he cannot just undo this! the blond is still wearing the golden band around his ring finger… lords above and below, he’s truly an idiot. without thinking, hajoon’s eyes fall on dojoon’s ring finger. it’s bare.

he’s the biggest idiot alive, of course he is.

the warlock snorts, running a hand through his hair. “oh, come on, hajoon, it’s not like you enjoy my company that much anyway! just imagine, once the deal is done, you can go and marry that guard of yours. or those guards, i don’t know what’s going on in your heart, and frankly, i couldn’t care less. what i do care about is finishing everything faster--”

“so that you could get rid of me?”

“exactly, your majesty. i don’t want to spend my time taking care of a child.”

“a child?” hajoon laughs. “well you _married_ this child, so that’s on you!”

the warlock rolls his eyes at the blond, turning on his heels and walking to the window. he opens them in one swift motion, the spring breeze sending a shiver down hajoon’s spine. “have a good night, husband. i’ll try to come and study those when you’re not here.” and with that, dojoon lets himself fall out the window, like the pretentious man that he is.

hajoon pretends his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he sees him fall with nothing to stop him from ending up sprawled on the ground, dead. when he sees the fumes peeking through the curtains, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

 _such a prick._ hajoon can’t believe he agreed on wearing the ring he gave him. he should take it off, really, but… hajoon shakes his head, going to the windows to close them before the wind can mess up his notes further.

the room is far too quiet now, no sorcerer around to annoy the living hell out of hajoon. trying not to think of dojoon anymore, in case he might come back thanks to the bond and be stuck with a _child_ again, hajoon sits back at the table, as if he didn’t get perturbed before. and so, the king resumes his reading, though his mind is not present.

he’s wandering off, part of him following the warlock like the smoke that’s always left behind him, while the rest of hajoon is left to stare at the written notes without understanding what they mean. he needs to focus, he needs something strong enough to pull his drifting soul back to the rest of him.

before hajoon can get the chance to stand reach for the tobacco hidden near the history shelves, the door opens quietly, and jaehyeong steps inside, in the same manner. his eyes find hajoon quickly, like he’s done many times before. a smile spreads across his face as he speed walks to the desk, arms open for hajoon to fall into them.

“i know, darling, i’ve missed you too,” hajoon says, melting into the younger’s arms. he’s so warm, hajoon could spend the rest of his life in jaehyeong’s embrace.

“never let woosung monitor me, please. he’s making my life more miserable every time he breathes in my direction,” jaehyeong mumbles into hajoon’s hair, stopping just to press a kiss on it. “you should really consider putting him under me, joonie. _i_ want to be the one trailing after him and yelling out how his posture is wrong for patrolling the castle perimeters when a literal _rebellion_ is lurking around the corner for a way to get in!” hajoon hums, stroking jaehyeong’s back with gentle touches. he lets the younger continue his little story telling of the problem between woosung and him. he doesn’t make a comment on the way jaehyeong’s face flushes red when he recalls the fight that occurred, or when he tells hajoon how woosung had him pinned on the floor. it’s endearing, how their quarrels can have so much sexual tension without neither of them realizing it.

hajoon reaches to put the manuscripts away as the guard continues to talk, paying close attention to everything he’s saying even when he moves to the back of the library where he needs to store the notes again. jaehyeong trails after him like a puppy, not once stopping the flow of information, not even when he takes some of the parchments from hajoon to ease his job.

the king wonders if he should lock the drawers as he usually does, but he quickly changes his mind. he leaves them open, and with a sigh and a quick prayer that no one other than dojoon looks through them, hajoon turns to face jaehyeong. “ready to go have dinner? i think jihoon mentioned something about making cake tonight? perhaps honey cake? care to join?”

jaehyeong is already ahead of him, holding the door open for hajoon to walk out first. although everyone knows that the king doesn’t enjoy the whole ordeal of his people acting to him like he’s superior, the guard still does so; only to rub hajoon the wrong way. it’s just a matter of time until his patience runs thin and he challenges jaehyeong to a duel.

sadly for hajoon, today is not the day, and so, ignoring jaehyeong just because he can, the king holds his head high as he walks to the kitchen, ready to be of help for the workers.

the dinner goes smoothly, the cake jihoon baked is as delicious as everything the baker creates and there are no victims from woosung and jaehyeong’s scheduled banter over who gets the strawberry on hajoon’s slice. the older guard does try to stab jaehyeong, but in the end, he gives up on the fruit after jaehyeong pouts at his plate. hajoon turns a blind eye to the way they both end up blushing after woosung stabs the strawberry with a precise move and places it on the younger’s plate.

some things are better left unquestioned, hajoon has learned over years of witnessing woosung and jaehyeong’s unusual mating dance.

it’s later at night, as hajoon lays awake in his bed, feeling cold and unable to fall asleep, that he realizes a flaw in their deal. hajoon’s only part of it is to bind his soul to dojoon, to give him his energy. there’s nothing else on his side. dojoon didn’t even have to marry him for them to be bound.

hajoon sighs, turning and turning, trying to find a comfortable position. his head hurts and his body is exhausted, but he can’t fall asleep. maybe he should break the deal before dojoon… maybe not even the vilest most powerful warlock could save him from the curse. the kingdom may be blooming again, but he knows it won’t last.

the curse will catch up, his body is still rotting from the inside.

hajoon falls asleep before he can try and accept that it would be better if he died. almost like a defense mechanism, he pushes away the obvious and lets his body be wrapped in the same warmth that he knows too well will be gone come morning.

* * *

ever since hajoon found out about dojoon’s true intentions, the king has been dreaming of the same scene unfolding in front of his very eyes.

it always starts with him in a glade, alone, surrounded by wolfsbane. he can distantly hear birds chirping, far enough that he can’t scare them when he walks around, trying to find something that may help him realize what it all means.

he never finds anything, but he hopes that at least once, there is something worth searching for.

whenever he’s done turning every leaf upside down, that’s when dojoon steps through the arch of tree branches hiding the glade from the outside world. except that it’s never _dojoon_. it looks like him, as much as hajoon can see, but the blond knows better. he can sense that it’s not the warlock his soul is bound to. and yet, hajoon always finds himself falling in the man’s arms, a sense of security washing over him.

the warlock whispers in his ear, calming, soothing, and then hajoon finds himself longing for more.

by the time he wakes up, the dream is but a blurry memory that doesn’t linger for more than ten seconds in the back of his mind. even so, the moment he steps into the scene, he knows where he is, what will happen, _how_ it will happen.

like a broken record he can’t turn off, hajoon is sentenced to go through it again and again every night.

* * *

the forest is abnormally quiet, despite being early in the morning. usually, when hajoon would go on morning walks with his mother, the animals would all come to look at the humans walking through their home, and over the course of many, many walks, hajoon has become accustomed to the deers watching from behind bushes, or the wolves keeping their distance.

his mother told him that as long as he didn’t disturb them or the faes of the forest, nothing bad would happen to him. and hajoon took that to heart. not once did he touch the rocks or altars or even the flowers, scared that he may anger fairies and elves, and not once did he try to get too close to an animal. only if they came to him and allowed him to pet them did he do that.

he respected the forest, and the forest respected him back.

but today… something doesn’t seem right; hajoon could feel it from the moment he set foot in the woods. he pays it no mind, even as he walks past a deer’s den only to find it vacant, not one single animal there.

it feels like he’s being watched closely, observed. the hair on the nape of his neck stands, and there are goosebumps all over his arms when he hears rustling somewhere on his right. he writes it off as nothing, despite knowing that something, _someone_ lurks behind the trees, waiting for him to take one wrong step.

it may be just because he decided to go out alone, not telling anyone of his whereabouts, but the adrenaline is rushing through his body even faster than when he was with his guards last time he felt like being watched. if hajoon knew any better, he’d say he’s being followed by someone ready to kill. a predator hunting for its prey, a scene worthy of the dark woods.

the bow and arrows slung over his shoulder weigh much more than they should. he cannot run unless he wants to drop dead in a pool of his own blood and he cannot yell for help. he doesn’t need it anyway. he’s far better at shooting arrows than he is at sword fights, and his predator does not seem to know that. yet.

his skin burns with the need to shoot, but he can’t risk firing at one person only to have fifteen more come out of nowhere. hajoon has to calculate each move or else he risks dying alone in the woods somewhere, becoming part of the place he loves and cherishes so much. it doesn’t sound half bad actually. for his remains to feel the ravens and bugs and wolves for weeks.

the sound of a twig snapping on his left makes hajoon stop in his tracks. his hand reaches for his arrow and bow out of reflex. he moves to shoot, aimes where he knows the attacker hides-- but an arrow stabs his thigh first. gritting his teeth to push down a cry, hajoon shoots as well as he can despite the tears welling up in his eyes.

he hears a body hit the ground and then silence. the crows and robins fly away from their hiding spots, and then nothing else. the king sighs in relief, falling on his knees and wincing in pain.

only one assassin unless the others know better than to come out now that they have seen his perfected, well rehearsed aim.

the arrow is deep in his leg, red gushing out from the wound. hajoon knows better than to pull it out without tying something above it to stop the blood flow. he quickly rips open his shirt sleeve and just as quickly he wraps it tightly around his thigh, making sure that he has some more left for when he needs to press on it.

sending a quick prayer to the gods listening, hajoon grabs the arrow with one hand and holds his leg down with the other. he closes his eyes. his grip around the wood tightens.

a mortifying yell rips from him, the pain making its way into the deepest parts of hajoon. he’s properly crying now, and with the last bit of force left in him, he presses both hands on the open wound. the blood seeps through the white material of his ruined sleeve, but the pain is slowly dissipating. he feels his body on fire, his mind is alert and yet he can’t focus on one thing besides the way the gash still hurts; how there is still blood oozing out, down his leg and onto the green grass.

he’s too far away from the castle grounds to yell for help and hajoon knows it. plus, the blond doubts his boys will say anything other than _why in god's name did you go out alone?!_ before rushing him to the medical ward. so he pushes himself off the ground, grimacing when his leg starts throbbing again as he puts the minimum amount of pressure on it.

without something to support him, hajoon won’t be able to walk before he loses too much blood, and hopping around would tire him more. his only option is to take something from the forest; he picks up a fallen stick, sturdy enough to bear his weight. he thanks the faes and spirits outloud, promising that he will pay them back soon.

taking careful steps, hajoon walks to where his attacker was hiding. he finds no one, but the trace of blood left is enough confirmation to know that they won’t make it far. hajoon sighs, observing the burgundy sliver of material left behind.

hajoon is hyperaware of his surroundings. he needs to get back to the castle without getting murdered by the reds. simple as that. hajoon has survived worse. except that normally there would be enough energy in his body to keep him alive. right now, with all the blood he’s lost and the lack of energy, hajoon is entirely and absolutely doomed.

still, he will not accept to die this way. he cannot leave his friends and family like this. he still has so much more to do, he has to make his parents and his people proud. he has so much more to do before he can go. hajoon refuses to die just because of an arrow stabbing his leg. tremors take over his body. is he going into shock right now?

before he can realize what’s happening to him, smoke fills his nose, the thick black fog wrapping around his trembling body like a comforting blanket being draped over during a stormy night. hajoon can feel a warm body near him, but he can’t turn around. he’s frozen in place, mind racing at the thought of dying.

“well, well, looks like my little lamb is ready for the butcher, huh?” dojoon’s quiet voice makes hajoon feel tenfold better, despite wanting to punch the warlock whenever he thinks of him. “how did you manage to do this one, lamb?”

“shut up,” hajoon grunts as he turns to face dojoon, suddenly feeling his power come back. he knows it’s because the warlock is right next to him, but he can’t bring himself to care. “why are you here, warlock?” he asks.

one of dojoon’s hands moves to the top of the king’s head, smoothing down the mess of hair and grass. the touch is _almost_ gentle, but hajoon knows better than to associate such words and actions with an evil warlock that’s only using him, his energy and heart for his own benefit. hajoon growls at him, to which dojoon only chuckles, hand never leaving his head.

“well i felt my husband’s spirit slowly fade away so of course i had to come rescue him!” the way he says it makes hajoon want to have the power to push him away.

“i thought you didn’t want to be caring for a child anymore,” hajoon says. the energy isn’t actually doing much for him, and even with the glare he throws the warlock, said man remains unimpressed.

instead, he smiles. “well, the child is almost dying because he’s too much of a spoiled brat to tell his guards that he left in the woods when rebels are looking for a way to murder him.” hajoon tries to become smaller at the accusation. he mumbles a _touche_ ; weak, defeated. “now let me take care of that, lamb. i’ll take you home, alright?”

“to the castle?”

“to _my_ home,” dojoon says. and that’s all he gets. no other explanation. hajoon sputters at that, brows furrowed and a protest already on the tip of his tongue. “no need to argue, lamb, it won’t help. now up we go,” dojoon’s arms sneak around hajoon’s waist and under his legs, picking the king up carefully. he’s never noticed just how strong the warlock is until now. “ready?” the already existing smoke grows thicker, engulfing them in a sea of nothing.

“wait, we will teleport there?!”

“of course, little king. you didn’t think we’d walk there when you’re still losing blood, right?” again, hajoon doesn’t know how to respond. “silly lamb,” dojoon laughs. he sounds far away, despite being right next to hajoon. “your eyes closed? good.” when did he… “hold on tight, sweetheart.”

hajoon isn’t quite sure what happens next. he can hear something moving around them, he can feel the wind blowing in his face, he can smell something burning. but his body doesn’t turn into dust only to be put together by magick again, his soul doesn’t leave his body either. granted, he can’t see anything (he closed his eyes, right?) but he’s _still_ present.

he may have passed out from the… experience, for when he does open his eyes, he’s lying in bed, tucked under dark covers. the first thing he notices, besides that he’s not in his own room, is how much light slips through the window. for a warlock’s bedroom it has better light than his own. the second thing he notices is that despite how dark the furniture and decor is, and despite that dojoon, the warlock which loves to make his presence known by filling any open space with smoke, the room smells like flowers. magnolias and… lilac?

hajoon rolls his eyes. of course the warlock would want _his_ home to smell nice but not care about other places. typical.

he stands, slowly and cautious of his injury. with his back now resting on the headboard, hajoon moves the cover to inspect his leg. he’s no longer wearing his bloodstained clothes, dojoon having changed him in a loose black sleeping shirt, leaving his legs bare. his wound is dressed in white cloth, but brown still peeks through it, the dried blood and medicine soaked in the material. _it should be changed soon,_ hajoon thinks.

the door opens, and, if possible, even more light comes into the room. dojoon looks at the king, his arms full of plants and food. he’s dressed down, which hajoon never thought would see. his hair looks fluffy, freshly washed, and is resting on his forehead, his extravagant jewelries are off, only the warlock’s earrings and one ring still decorating his body, he’s no longer wearing his cape and suit, instead, he’s dressed in similar fashion to hajoon. and for once, dojoon isn’t wearing his heels. “had a nice nap?”

hajoon nods dumbly, eyes still glued to the man. he looks… different, more approachable. if this man were to come ask hajoon to marry him, he would’ve still said no, but at least he would’ve considered giving him a chance. “that’s good,” dojoon says, moving closer into the room until he’s just a few steps away from the bed. “can i check your wound?” his voice is measured, as if scared he may do something wrong.

the king changes position so that his legs hang off the side of the bed. “go ahead, warlock.” dojoon doesn’t rush his movements, kneeling in front of the blond and unwrapping the wound with painstaking precautions. he checks it minutely, nodding to himself when he sees that the blood had stopped flowing out. the warlock gets the mortar and pestle from the bedside table, putting some of the dried plants in it and crushes and grinds away, until he’s satisfied with the fine powder left behind. then, as he smears it all over the wound, dojoon chants what sounds to hajoon as dead aspan, something he’s heard no one speak before.

“why not just use your alakazam magick to fix me?” hajoon asks once the warlock is done patching the wound.

he gets an offended look from the man, before he stands and gives one of the apples to him. “because, lamb, i can’t do spells like that. well, i can, but i don’t want to use my energy on that.”

“ _my_ energy you mean,” hajoon says, biting into the apple. it’s surprisingly sweet, but hajoon guesses that it shouldn’t surprise him anymore.

“mine, yours, same thing, lamb. we’re one, remember?” hajoon frowns at it, stopping midchew just to look disgusted at the warlock’s words. “oh don’t give me that look, sweetheart! you know it’s true.”

“unfortunately,” the king swallows the bite, eyes darting around the room. “how far are we from the castle?”

dojoon quirks an eyebrow, “wanna leave already?” when hajoon’s reaction is barely above a blink, he continues, “far away.”

“ _how_ far?”

“few hours by foot, few seconds teleporting.”

“great!” hajoon stands up, pretending his vision doesn’t get blurry around the edges and that there is no ringing in his ears. “teleport me back!”

at that, dojoon snorts, pushing the blond back down on the bed. “don’t think i can, sweet lamb. you passed out from it once, i can’t risk to bring you back out cold and risk your _darling_ slicing me with his sword. so you’re staying over for the night.”

“i… don’t think so?” hajoon scrambles to his feet again only to have dojoon’s hands on his shoulders force him to sit. “warlock! take me back!” dojoon sighs, looking conflicted for a second before a cold look shadows his face. “warlock!” the king whines.

“you will pass out, _your highness_ ,” the man argues, shooting hajoon a glare.

“and why do you care?” hajoon is acting like a child, he knows he is, but he wants to go back home. he’s not ready to spend a night with the warlock. alone. his leg is questionably fine, so if he tried hard enough, hajoon is sure he’d make it home in _at least_ one piece. he could even leave when dojoon falls asleep! though he doesn’t know the way back… not a solid plan.

dojoon pushes his hair back with an exasperated sigh. “you want to get back that bad--”

“yes!”

“then should i share this _revolutionary_ breakthrough in your curse with the walls?”

hajoon stumbles forward with how he jumps to his feet, ending up face first in dojoon’s chest. the brunet doesn’t smell like smoke for once, instead the sweet perfume of flowers clings to his clothes. he pushes himself off, looking at the warlock. “the what?” he questions, excitement and fear bubbling inside of him. “you can break it?”

“nope,” dojoon says, “ _but_ , i have a theory!”

“another one?” the king rolls his eyes. of course dojoon didn’t find anything of help. he’s just prolonging the arrangement to use hajoon’s --already low-- energy. hajoon should really break the deal.

“don’t look so disappointed, sweet face.” dojoon rolls his eyes back, just to show he can be as petty as the king. “i think you have more than one curse on you.”

“what-- but… why? that doesn’t make any sense! who would curse me _twice_?”

“well not _you_ , but your family. we’ve established this the last time we saw each other, prince.”

“king,” hajoon mumbles.

“whatever,” the warlock responds, “now do you want to see the progress?” he doesn’t wait for hajoon to agree and turns on his heels to walk out of the bedroom. the blond rushes after him, limping every few steps. dojoon waits for him in the open space of his house, a mix between a salon and a study room with far too many symbols drawn all over the walls. “so i think there are at least two curses, both in different languages. i can’t really tell you how old they are, _but_ i’m sure the first one is a few centuries old.”

“and it only… activated… now? it makes zero sense, warlock!”

“well good thing logic has no place in magick, prince.” dojoon reaches for a piece of paper but when hajoon looks over the warlock’s shoulder he can’t read anything from them. “so i tried every language i know or know _of_ , and only opian seems to match with _some_ words. which makes me think it’s kinja that we’re dealing with. at least for one of them. but the only people near your land, or on this continent, who used it were--”

“relosians,” hajoon finishes. “my own people...”

dojoon nods, “precisely, lamb. your family got cursed by its own blood… the strongest of curses, and worst to break.” the warlock points to a paragraph on the paper, scribbled over far too many times for hajoon to recognize any of the characters. “i looked through your ancestors’ notes but there was nothing about relosians cursing themselves. well,” dojoon chuckles, “if they did it accidentally i don’t think they’d like everyone else to know.”

hajoon stays quiet, processing everything dojoon just dumped on him. maybe relosians didn’t curse themselves… maybe they cursed-- “what if my father’s side cursed my mother’s!” hajoon all but yells, hands covering his mouth when he realizes just how loud that was. “i mean,” he coughs, “what if they cursed _any_ other family but ours?”

“no, it makes sense…” dojoon blinks, before shaking his head and reaching for a new piece of parchment. “relosians cursed erosians before your parents got married… then it would explain why it would be a blood curse, right? and if someone in the two families have been married before, which, no offense but it’s possible with just how incest prone alliences are, it _would_ actually _be_ blood bound! lamb, you might’ve cracked half of it!”

hajoon ignores the incest comment, choosing to watch dojoon scribble down again, tilting his head to the side to read the words. “ok, let’s say one curse is… solved, for the lack of better words, but how will you find anyone speaking kinja? the last people who spoke it died decades ago! don’t you need to know the language in order to _know_ what the curse says _in order_ to break it?”

“well… yes and no?” dojoon barely dodges the punch hajoon aims at the back of his head. “look, lamb, if i can be at least sure it’s in kinja i can break it! every magick person has their own way of dealing with curses and mine is… a bit unorthodox.”

“you steal the person’s power, i know.” the king jumps on the table, ignoring dojoon’s loud complaints and picking a piece of parchment of his own. he writes down, in the most elegant cursive handwriting, every word he does remember from the dead language. it’s not much, but it’s far better than having nothing. “does this help?”

“lamb, we’re not sure it _is_ your family that cursed you. we need proof for it.” the warlock, despite his protest, still takes the offered paper and puts it on top of his own research, so careful with it that hajoon frowns at it. way for him to be nicer to a piece of paper with some words written on it than with his own husband. the man huffs, looking away from the brunet.

then, hajoon remembers how soft dojoon’s hands were on him back in the forest, how warm his smile was when looking down at hajoon… the king huffs even louder, just to show the warlock his indignation.

“i don’t think you’ll like my idea.”

“i swear on every god’s life, if you propose we--”

“i think we need to pay a visit to erosia,” dojoon finishes, no trace of remorse on his face.

hajoon nods, smiling as if he’s not cursing past him for choosing to ask for a warlock’s help instead of greeting death with open arms. “okay… we will go to erosia… sure!” hajoon’s smile turns cold. “now bring me home, warlock.” there is a certain edge to his voice, something that he hopes dojoon will pick up on and read the entire situation quickly.

fortunately, he does. “of course, little lamb.” dojoon stands up, his files and pens all organizing with a snap of his fingers. the warlock’s eyes move down on hajoon’s body until they rest on his bandaged leg. he gives an approving hum when he can’t find any blood. “ready to go?”

the king can’t help but think just how easily dojoon agreed to teleport him back to the castle now that they’ve looked over the clues he’s found. how fast he is to just discard himself of the burden that hajoon is. he must have been just pretending when acting concerned about the blond’s wellbeing after he’s passed out. he let himself be blinded by one act of kindness, forgetting that the man in front of him is just an evil sorcerer who would never care about anyone else.

hopping down from the desk, hajoon nods. his leg doesn’t hurt as much, the wounded part is almost numb now thanks to whatever dojoon did. he’s thankful the warlock came to the rescue, but part of him, small, insignificant in the greater scheme of things, wishes he didn’t, that hajoon would have lost so much blood he would have gone cold in the forest. it’s an inconsequential part, but hajoon can’t ignore it; especially not when dojoon’s hands rest on his hips, bringing the blond closer to his body so that he’s immersed in the familiar fog.

“close your eyes again, sweet thing,” dojoon whispers in his ear, his hot breath sending shivers down hajoon’s spine.

just like the last time, hajoon doesn’t know what’s happening around him and he doesn’t care enough to find out. all he knows is that dojoon’s hands on his body feel secure and that he’s having far too many thoughts running through his head, none of which make sense.

the smell of flowers fades away, only burned wood left behind.

the world still around him, and when hajoon opens his eyes they’re back in his bedroom, where everything is clad in darkness and one sleeping jaehyeong is waiting on his desk chair. dojoon, with his arms still wrapped around hajoon, leans in to press his lips on his earshell. “make sure to be ready. we leave in two days.”

the warlock pulls away and grins at hajoon. he’s slowly disappearing, but before he can do that, hajoon makes sure to send him one last glare, to which dojoon responds with a wink. hajoon _does not_ blush because of it.

alone now, with no more warlock induced headaches, hajoon moves to the desk, picking jaehyeong up to the best of his abilities, trying not to have the wound reopen. he places the younger on his bed, covering him with a blanket before slipping in behind him.

jaehyeong wakes up and roll over to face hajoon. his eyes are cold, but hajoon can pick up the worry behind them. “why did you go on your own? you know it’s not safe for you to be without guard outside.”

“hey, i am pretty sure i shot the person fatally! and i just got a scratch from it!” hajoon tries to smile, but jaehyeong’s glare makes him rethink the strategy. “besides, dojoon came to help and he patched me up really well, so don’t worry about me, jaehyeongie.”

the guard’s stern face crumbles, his anxieties bleeding into it and clouding his eyes. “don’t you ever do that again, hajoon. i mean it,” the man’s bottom lip quivers and hajoon is quick to wrap him in his arms. “i don’t know what i will do without you… stop throwing yourself in danger just to save others.”

hajoon doesn’t mention that he went into the forest because his head was filled with distress, that he’s walked the woods alone because he couldn’t spend another minute in the castle, that once again, hajoon was selfish.

the king nods. “i won’t… i’ll either go with you, woosung or anyone else,” he says.

“just never alone,” jaehyeong insists.

“of course, darling.”

and that seems to do it for jaehyeong, ever the one to trust hajoon without a doubt blooming from the blond’s actions or words. hajoon means it and pulls jaehyeong closer. he will tell his guards about the trip to erosia tomorrow, when they’re all well rested and woosung could interfere were the youngest to do something recklessly at the thought of hajoon being alone with dojoon.

for now, he goes back to sleep and tries to ignore the lingering smell of magnolias and lilacs on his shirt. they should be smelling like smoke…

* * *

two days later find hajoon bidding his goodbyes to an angry, disapproving jaehyeong and a slightly disappointed but overall supportive woosung, all whilst the rest of his guards watch the scene unfold. he can see jihyo and jaebeom shift uncomfortably in his peripheral, so he ends the dramatics quick, placing a kiss on either of his two boys’ cheeks.

“with all due respect, your majesty,” chaeyoung steps out of line, hand resting on her sword, “but are you sure it’s a good idea to go with the warlock? _alone_? it sounds like a suicide mission!”

“don’t bother, young,” jaehyeong growls, “i’ve already tried telling him that _far_ too many times.”

behind hajoon, dojoon rolls his eyes at the young man. “baby cheeks, it is not as if i threatened your precious king into coming,” he winks at jaehyeong just before hajoon can catch him, “ _with me_ ,” he finishes. “so stop barking like a pup and accept that your majesty likes me enough to marry me.”

“warlock!” hajoon yells, but in a blink of an eyes jaehyeong’s sword is aimed in between dojoon’s eyes. _no one_ makes a move to stop him, not even hajoon. “go get the horses ready, will you? i need to have a word with the guards.”

dojoon rolls his eyes again, shrugging as he turns around. “suit yourself, lamb, just make sure to finish quick. we have a long way to go.”

the king sighs. “please, just keep everything under control while i’m gone. woosung, you’re in charge of the kids.” hajoon gets far too many offended gasps from the guards, but he continues nevertheless, “jihyo, you will help sungjin with any external problems. chan, you will take care of the internal. just… make sure no one dies because of accidental stabbings, ok? no fights, no baby making, though… most of you aren’t into that… and _no_ sexual tension that ends in one of you pinned against the wall.” he addresses this to jaehyeong and woosung, watching as they try (and fail) to argue that there is absolutely no sexual tension between them and that, if anything, he should tell this to sana and dahyun. hajoon brushes them off, as always. “just keep relosea safe, and make sure nothing happens to _you_. i want to come back to every single one of my guards bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!”

jaehyeong groans and pushes the king away. “just go, you old man! come back in one piece, understood?”

“of course, darling,” hajoon smiles at the taller. “well then, off i am! i’ll ask dojoon to send you the news of when we arrive in erosia. it shouldn’t take us too long.”

“are you sure your grandparents are fine with you coming unannounced?” woosung counters.

“why wouldn’t they be? i’m their grandson!” hajoon shakes his head at the obvious lack of trust. “don’t worry. everything will be fine,” he tries to reassure them.

the king wastes no more time. he shoots them all one more kind smile and one last goodbye and heads to where dojoon has been tending the horses. he doesn’t utter a single word, mounting hayan and giving her head a pet. the white horse neighs, ready to leave.

“well,” he looks over his shoulder, where dojoon is still standing besides barna, looking at her with uncertainty. “get on with it, warlock! we don’t have all day!”

“why can’t we just use my magick to get there? it would be much easier and less tiring for everyone.”

hajoon ignores his whining and urges hayan to go, leaving the warlock behind, only to have him complain louder about how he can’t climb on barna’s back. what kind of person doesn’t know how to mount a horse? _a spoiled warlock_ , hajoon answers his own question while turning hayan around to go and assist dojoon.

he brushes aside the burning looks on his back and helps dojoon up, making sure to squeeze the man’s knee forcefully to let him know just how much he hates the warlock. it does absolutely nothing, dojoon just winking at hajoon as thanks, hand patting the king’s blond hair down. once, twice, then a tug.

“you ready now, warlock?” hajoon asks, pushing the man’s hand away and giving barna a kiss. it’s the least he can do to apologize for her having to carry the magick bastard. he thinks he hears dojoon hum in agreement, though it sounded more like a groan and a snarl, so he takes at as his cue to get back on hayan and go.

dojoon sticks close behind the king, letting out huffs every five minutes or so. the little protests barely reach hajoon with how much he’s trying to block _anything_ related to the warlock, from his annoying voice to his borderline _infuriating_ face. he thanks the gods that he doesn’t have to look at him, that he can lead the way and not have to think of dojoon’s smile when he helped him.

it goes like this for the first day of the journey: dojoon whines, hajoon curses him out every time he opens his mouth and for the most part they don’t exchange any pleasantries. hajoon isn’t entirely sure what goes wrong with them, what makes them refuse to talk, but he isn’t one to whine and cry about not speaking with the magick bastard. the journey is more or less peaceful for the first day, and that’s all he cares about.

the halt they take when the sun sets is just as awkward, with dojoon starting a fire as soon as they tie hayan and barna to two trees nearby, giving them enough space to rest. as soon as the fire is burning bright and tall, hajoon thrusts one of the meals jihoon had prepared for them. cheese, bread and some fruit; it’s not much, but given their circumstances, it’s more than enough.

dojoon takes the food with a small thanks, and after that, the silence resumed, this once deafening, no longer… quiet. the king knows that by the time they reach erosia he will be driven insane by the tense relationship that seemed to blossom out of nowhere, but there is nothing he can do.

hajoon falls asleep cold, opposite of dojoon, and with a ringing resonating in his ears. he wakes up wrapped in a blanket he doesn’t remember digging for in his bag. neither of them mention the sudden appearance of the dark red cover that smelled like flowers. if it is to keep them sane or to play oblivious to… whatever is going on, hajoon cannot tell.

the blurred lines between their bond grow hazier by the minute.

it’s during their second day that somehow, without them realizing until it’s too late, they get lost. they must have taken a wrong turn, must have chosen to go right instead of left. but that doesn’t help them in the greater scheme of things. they got lost and now hajoon has no idea where they are or how they could get back on the right track and win back the time they have lost.

to his surprise, when he mentions this slight inconvenience to dojoon, the warlock only sighs. no yells, no whines, no reminders that hajoon is a spoiled child who can’t even read a map right. instead, dojoon hops off barna’s back and guides the horse to a meadow, looking behind every so often to see if hajoon is following.

it’s barely past the afternoon, but the summer sun still shines bright above them, scorching the back of hajoon’s neck. the meadow, for all that’s worth, is shadowed by the trees, something the king is thankful for.

“get off the horse, will you, lamb? i’m far too tired to go around like a headless chicken until we can figure out _where_ we are.” the warlock pats the grass next to him, having taken a seat on a yellow and dried spot. “i can take us to erosia if i can read the stars correctly, but for that we need night to fall upon us. so there’s no use in you choosing to be almighty and superior by staying on that horse.”

hajoon grumbles, but he descends from hayan’s back, his feet hitting the ground gracefully. he catches dojoon roll his eyes just as the blond walks closer to him, a resentful look plastered on his face. “so you want us to lose one day just because somehow you can magically teleport us to erosia using your smoke?” hajoon sneers, plopping down feet away from the warlock.

dojoon laughs, throwing his head back as he begins to shake with amusement. “lamb, do you really think i can only travel with _my smoke_? do scholars not teach you anything about magick anymore?” the warlock sighs, fixing hajoon with a worried look. the blond falters under his gaze, unsure of what to answer. did he just offend the warlock? should he have read more about magick? he _does_ know that it is different for every user, but anything beyond that is incomprehensible for him.

“lamb, i use my smoke because it’s easier and i only have to transport my own body… though, lately i have been having a brat as a companion…” hajoon throws a fallen acorn at the warlock. “you’ve heard of symbols, i assume?”

“of course i did! do you take me as an idiot?” the king huffs in annoyance, glaring at the man in front of him.

“right, right, sorry. well, your majesty, i can use my smoke to draw them out of thin air, and then, if i want to, i can open portals for more people to pass through. though like i said, that requires me to know our exact position and destination, otherwise we could end up in the ocean and i wouldn’t want my _lovely_ husband to get wet… like that at least…”

ignoring the sexual undertone, hajoon tries to wrap his head around what the warlock has just said. he’d never seen him use symbols before, at least not actively. he’d seen what he assumes are dojoon’s own symbols, on his heels, on the inside of the ring, but he had never examined them closely. “so you _can_ teleport across the globe?”

“if i wish so, yes.”

hajoon bows his head to look at the grass beneath him. “how much energy… does that require?” his voice is quiet, an implication hidden behind his words. he hopes dojoon will ease the turmoil with a reassuring--

“a lot,” dojoon admits. hajoon’s heart jumps in his throat; not the answer he was looking for. “which is why you should go to sleep now, lamb. i might need some of yours, but i will try to keep the theft to a minimum today. just steal what i need, _if_ i happen to need more power. sounds good?”

hajoon is ready to argue, to fight dojoon tooth and nail on this until the warlock realizes that it isn’t a smart idea to order him, _the king_ , around. but then, before he can get a chance to do so, a feeling of drowsiness takes over him, one that has him aware of just how tired his body is. his eyes slip shut and the last thing hajoon can feel is how the grass smells like magnolias.

he stirs awake by nightfall, eyes flying open just to find himself staring at the dark sky, the stars shimmering dazzlingly above his very form. it takes hajoon a moment to realize that he’s alone in the meadow, no trace of dojoon anywhere around him. the horses are gone as well. hajoon panics, jumping to his feet and almost falling with the faintness that glooms over him.

he couldn’t… dojoon could _not_ have left him alone, taking his power to open a portal to gods know where and abandon the king like he means _nothing_ to him. hajoon knows that he’s not worth much, especially not to dojoon considering their nonconformist relationship, but to leave him alone in the woods for any animal or inhumane being to take advantage of him… no, hajoon refuses to believe that.

if he dies, the bond is broken and he is _certain_ that dojoon would feel at least some sort of pain from having the other part of his soul ripped from him. why did hajoon let himself think of dojoon as anything but the vile, evil magick bastard that he is? why did hajoon think the warlock would do anything but take his power and flee?

why… the king shakes his head. is his perception of the warlock prejudiced? is he just painting the warlock as a snake just because everyone around him sees dojoon as one? it can’t be, yet surely, hajoon must be biased. after all, he’d spent time with dojoon alone, had seen him… vulnerable, dressed down of his magick clothes and symbols, had had him lay in bed and hold him.

the panic has subdued, but now another type of worry flows through hajoon. worry of misconception, of having read everything wrong. dojoon _gave_ hajoon reasons to think of him as a devil, but is that _all_ dojoon is? is he only a monster ready to kill hajoon for his limited energy? he never took more than necessary, never left hajoon drained enough to die. he is _helping_ hajoon for goodness’ sake! he healed his wound to the point where only a small scar is left on the king’s thigh.

his head feels heavy. hajoon doesn’t know where he stands, where he and dojoon stand. the ring on his finger burns again, but hajoon has learned to just ignore the subtle pain and just how he wished to have greeted death, he welcomes it with open arms and a smile.

“come back already and show me you are not what i made you to be…” hajoon murmurs, looking up at the stars. he wants to have hope, at least a glimmer. he wants dojoon to prove him that he was wrong, that deep down the warlock is good, maybe even morally gray! anything to ease his mind and heart, he would take even a crumb of good from dojoon.

a moment passes, the stars seem to be flicker with every second, and yet, nothing. no sign of dojoon coming back, no sign of him having left hajoon alone with righteous intentions hidden behind his actions.

hajoon sighs and nods to himself. he should have expected that, really. what use does good have for a warlock? pushing himself off the grass, hajoon finally notices the coat covering his legs. black with red and gold accents, symbols sewn on the inside of the material.

the air around him shifts, if possible, and everything becomes tense, as if a massive energy has just appeared out of thin air. hajoon whips his head around to where the magick is coming from. dojoon is standing there, unbothered, as if he didn’t just cause hajoon to rethink his whole moral compass and his influenced views of the world.

“ready to go to erosia, lamb?” the warlock asks, holding his hand out for hajoon to take. hajoon looks at the offered help, then back to dojoon’s features. he looks tired, worse than hajoon probably does. he takes the hand, letting his fingers wrap around dojoon’s tightly as the brunet pulls him up. “i took the liberty to take the horses already and announce the queens of our arrival.” dojoon reaches for his discarded coat, before putting it around hajoon’s shoulders with a far too gentle touch. “the servants got our room prepared, so… all set?”

hajoon blinks at the warlock. “you… didn’t leave me?”

“of course not, lamb,” dojoon says, eyes softening as a smile makes its way on his face. “i just figured you’d want to sleep, which is why i left my coat here. did you really think i would leave you here alone?” dojoon’s eyes widen when he realizes hajoon _did_ believe exactly that. “oh, sweet heart…”

the king punches dojoon in the chest, glaring at him. he’s wearing his heels again, something he must have changed during the time he was in erosia. “i will hit you much, _much_ worse next time, so do not test me, warlock,” he hisses out, bearing his teeth to look threatening.

dojoon just chuckles, petting his hair with one hand while drawing far too many signs in the air, smoke pouring out of his fingertips and leaving trails behind in their wake. a portal opens out of nothing, and hajoon can see the illuminated hallways of a palace on the other side.

grabbing the blond’s hand, dojoon drags him through the magick gateway. his skin prickles, the light inside the portal bright and making his eyes hurt, but sooner than expected they’re stepping out of the tunnel and walking straight into the hallway, where two servants are already waiting for them.

“your majesty!” the shorter one exclaims, rushing to greet hajoon with an agitated look on her face. “the queens went to sleep before your arrival, should we let them know you are here?” she asks, looking up at hajoon with her big eyes tugging at hajoon’s heartstrings. the king shakes his head, letting his hand rest on her shoulder briefly. she blushes, frowning at hajoon. “are you sure? they are your grandmothers, your highness! your husband had mentioned--”

“yerim,” the taller one cuts her off, shooting a warning look her way before pulling her back. “apologies, your highness. my name is tzuyu,” she says with a bow, deep, respectful. pointing behind her, she continues, “she is yerim and we are the queens’ servants. may we lead you and your husband to your room?”

hajoon, too tired to argue about the nature of their relationship, agrees with a simple nod, showing tzuyu that she can lead the way for them. looking over his shoulder, he notices dojoon frozen in place, looking at the king with a strange expression. hajoon smiles at him, holding his hand out the same way the warlock did in the meadow. “coming, darling?”

that seems to break whatever spell dojoon was under, for he grabs hajoon’s hand with no hesitation, walking beside him while the two servants throw glances at them every few steps. yerim, despite the childish, almost naive air around her, seems to pay more attention to them than tzuyu. her eyes linger on their linked hands, but even when she takes notice of the lack of a wedding band on the warlock’s finger, she keeps quiet, only announcing the two that they are expected for brunch by the queens when they arrive at the door.

tzuyu bows again, urging yerim to do the same. “should you need anything, your highness, feel free to let us know. if not, we will take our leave and let you two rest for what’s left of the night.”

hajoon dismisses the two with a smile and a soft thank you, closing the door after he makes sure dojoon is inside and doesn’t accidentally lock him outside. the door now closed, hajoon turns to see the warlock looking exhausted, as if he’s ready to fall asleep at any given time.

“you can take the bed if you wish so,” hajoon says, taking a seat on the couch opposite the grandiose bed and lifting his feet to rest on the armrest. “you look like you’re seconds away from passing out.”

dojoon snorts, undressing himself with lethargic moves, barely unbuttoning his blouse before his knees give out under all the weight he is carrying. hajoon jumps to his feet before he can comprehend what’s happening, arms secure around dojoon’s trembling form. he can’t help the deja-vu feeling he’s getting.

the king looks _anywhere_ but at the warlock’s body, at the tattoos spreading across dojoon’s chest and stomach, the lines barely passing onto his arms. hajoon had never seen them before… he had never thought that the warlock would even be one to decorate his body in such a way… the lines of the art pieces are black, some a bit more faded than others, but they’re all represent a symbol, a rune, an old word hajoon can’t read.

they are beautiful, the harsh strokes of ink blending perfectly with dojoon’s delicate body. hajoon wants to drink in the sight, to get drunk on the allure of dojoon’s body.

the king buries those thoughts deep, _deep_ down. he asks, “can you move to the bed?” and when dojoon shakes his head, hajoon simply guides him, bearing most of the weight. “can you take your pants off yourself or do you need help?” the warlock shakes the offer off, hands moving to his intricate belts only to give up halfway through and silently beg hajoon for help. “you’re a fucking baby, aren’t you?” the king sighs, unbuckling dojoon’s belts and pulling his pants down in one swift motion. the warlock, now only in his underwear, shivers from the cold air hitting his sweaty skin.

this time, hajoon lets his eyes wander down the expense of dojoon’s legs, admiring the tattoos hugging the warlock’s thigh. those, unlike the ones on his chest and stomach, represent flowers. some he can recognize, gardenias, lilies, daisies, and some he can not even think of any flower he knows of that fits the art pieces. and in between them, wolfsbane, scattered all over the piece of art, some pieces hidden by bigger flowers, some in plain sight.

hajoon shudders, images from his dream coming back to him. “warlock… what does wolfsbane mean?”

stirring awake, dojoon answers, “deadly foe is coming, lamb… cautious… sweet thing…”

as soon as hajoon wraps him in a blanket, he’s out cold, clinging to the blond’s arm like that is the source of power keeping him alive; which, for all hajoon knows, it may as well be.

sighing, the king gets in behind dojoon, resting his arm over the brunet’s waist, not too tight but still enough to keep him close and unable to roll of the bed. he never thought he would be spooning a magick bastard, yet here he was, making sure the warlock stays alive and that he doesn’t steal his blanket.

the wolfsbane on dojoon’s body must mean something else for him, a personal meaning that only he knows. but the one in hajoon’s dream… if he thinks about it, he did dream it right before the red army soldier attacked him in the forest… a sign? from whom? his parents haven’t been ones to result to flowers in order to speak their minds, but dojoon is. at least, the plants surrounding him seem to say so.

he’s reading too much into it. hajoon closes his eyes, tightening his grip on the warlock sleeping in his arms.

how did he end up like this, in a somewhat domestic, somewhat hateful and somewhat filled with too much tension relationship with park dojoon, the vilest warlock in all known lands? and why doesn’t he mind cuddling up with the man stealing his energy to try and save both hajoon and himself?

it is ought to be part of the curse, that is unquestionable.

* * *

come late morning hajoon is up with the already shining sun, feeling oddly energized despite having had the role of a battery for the whole night. he sneaks out of the bed, leaving dojoon to rest some more, for gods know he needs it.

he takes his time washing up and changing into day clothes, wrapping a light blue bow around his wrist, a tradition of his kingdom’s for when the ruler leaves its land. hajoon stares at the ring, its dark color a strickening contrast between the whites of his clothes and the silver of his jewels. it had stopped burning as soon as dojoon came back, but the engraved signs still shine red. they do that, sometimes, when dojoon is in close proximity, but it’s never bright enough to catch anyone’s eyes, not even hajoon’s.

today, around the edges of the biggest symbol, hajoon notices a blue speck, almost too faint for him to see. but surely, after the blond rubs his eyes, the dot is still there. he pays it no mind though, shrugging the anomaly off as the sun rays reflecting off the jewelry.

he wakes dojoon when the clock strikes eleven, shaking the warlock’s shoulder with a light hand, careful of the man’s fists. he learned last night that dojoon _moves_ when he’s extremely tired, and hajoon would rather not have a repeat of the countless hands over his face and knees in his groin that he’s gone through.

surprisingly, the warlock doesn’t hit him, nor does he being smoking from the sudden touch. dojoon just blinks away the sleepiness, stretching like a cat and yawning loudly before curling around hajoon’s body.

“wake up, warlock. we are expected for brunch, did you forget?” he says, his hand resting on top of dojoon’s head without much thought. he begins scratching behind the man’s ear, which earns him a quiet moan from dojoon. still, he doesn’t pull his hand back; instead, hajoon tugs on dojoon’s ear until he whines and sits up, the covers pooling around his middle.

ignoring the way the sun shines on dojoon’s naked chest, on how some of the ink seems to shimmer in the bashful rays, hajoon stands up. “i won’t give you clothes or make the bed for you so come on, get up and go to the bathroom unless you want to make my grandmothers think i… married a stinky wizard.”

“warlock,” dojoon mumbles, pushing the covers off his leg and standing up to stretch his legs. hajoon blushes while his eyes find themselves glued to the exposed skin, but the warlock’s deep and raspy voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “thanks for last night, lamb. your energy was delicious, must i say,” he sends a smirk in hajoon’s way, running a hand through his bedhead. it looks _so soft,_ the embodiment of lewdness, of effortless lust.

“whatever, warlock,” the king snaps, moving around the room just to preoccupy himself from looking over at dojoon, “just get changed, will you?”

“aye, aye, sir!” dojoon gives him a mock salute, disappearing in the bathroom soon after, his arms full of changing clothes (all of which black, the same consistent shade of it).

hajoon refuses to even _think_ of what the warlock is doing in there, how he must be undressing and bathing the sweat off his body, how his wet hair falls on his forehead, droplets of water sliding down his skin, down, down, lower and lower until-- hajoon gasps, ashamed of the thoughts he has just let himself get lost in. his cheeks are set aflame from that alone.

groaning, hajoon accepts defeat, and now begins the painful game of waiting for dojoon to come back from the bathroom, hopefully dressed and with no water running down his chest. it happens rather later than sooner, for near one in the afternoon dojoon finally emerges from the other room, dressed to the nines. it is his usual attire, flowy blouse, tight pants, jewelry over jewelry over even more jewelry, but somehow he looks different from the other times he’s worn the exact same outfit.

“are you trying to impress my grandmothers, warlock?”

“well, i don’t want to think their grandson married a _stinky wizard_ now, do i?” dojoon says, rolling his eyes at hajoon’s amused face. “let’s go, i’m starving!” the brunet pulls at hajoon’s wrist, tugging him towards the door and into the hallway. “gods, i heard erosia has _amazing_ fruits! i wanna try every single one of them, lamb!”

the king walks close behind, not bothering to take his hand out of dojoon’s hold. the halls are empty anyway, and even if there were guards or servants around to see them, the two are supposed to be married. they are supposed to…

“you should wear a ring,” hajoon says, more as a slip than anything else. dojoon turns to look at him, brows furrowed. “i mean, we’re married and yet i’m the only one with a wedding band around my finger. my grandmothers are… quite observant, so you should put one on. and make it seem like it matches the one i have.” the king shrugs at the end, a way of saying _or not, you don’t have to_.

dojoon lets go of his hand, reaching _inside_ his blouse and taking out a necklace he has never seen before. a ring rests on the silver chain, matching with hajoon’s own band. the warlock wordlessly slips the ring on his finger, watching it for a moment before his hand finds its place in hajoon’s warm grip.

“do you even know where you’re heading?” hajoon asks, looking left and right to remember the palace he hasn’t visited in years. it’s a lot quieter than what he remembers, less people swarming around, ready to comply to one’s every wish. he knows erosia has signed treaties with all its surrounding neighbours, but to keep not a single guard? the queens are brave, foolish, one may say. but queen joohyun and her wife, seulgi, are the most beloved rulers that the east has ever had. never attacked, never threatened; they saved erosia and hajoon wishes they could have helped him save his own people before making a deal with the devil.

a devil who’s holding his hand, not commenting on how sweaty it had gotten. a devil who makes hajoon’s head hurt with everything he does, yet who takes away the pain with one squeeze of his hand, one stroke of his cheek.

hajoon is still very much disoriented by the revelations he has had last night; the ones about where he stands with his opinion of dojoon’s person and the ones less… proper about dojoon’s body. he cannot be letting his guard down so easily, especially when the man has given him zero reasons to trust him blindly.

the king runs into dojoon’s back. “i said we are here, lamb. did you not hear me?” dojoon is smart enough to read the blush spreading furiously all over hajoon’s face and neck. “aww,” the warlock coos, “were you thinking of me?” he puckers his lips as he pokes at the blond’s puffed cheeks.

“i will hit you,” hajoon threatens with no hesitation.

dojoon smirks at him, biting on his bottom lip before wetting it quickly. “go ahead, lamb, i like it when you fight back. makes me want to tame that little rowdy brat in you,” the warlock’s voice deepens, now barely above a whisper. hajoon can’t help but gasp, face entirely red as he tries to keep his eyes locked with dojoon’s.

the warlock breaks eye contact first, only to glance at hajoon’s lips and then back up. his grin widens. hajoon _hates_ how much he likes the way dojoon looks, despite reminding him of a jackass trying to seduce a young, potential partner at the ball.

a cough pulls them out of their shared reverie. hajoon straightens his back shortly after pushing dojoon so that they both face the intruder. joohyun is looking at them with an unreadable look, while next to her seulgi tries to bite back a smile. they don’t look a day over thirty-five, hajoon notices; exactly how they looked the last time he’d seen them, as if frozen in time.

“your majesties!” hajoon exclaims, bowing in front of the two women. he can see dojoon just nodding at them from the corner of his eye, but with a quick jab on his side from the king, he bends down groaning in pain. “i apologize for the unannounced visit! i wish--”

“oh, shut up, joonie, will you?” joohyun says, rolling her eyes and strolling to where the blond is still bowing, albeit now confused. she tugs at his ears until he stands straight, and then she gives him a hug. warm, welcoming; the same as when he was younger. she holds onto him tightly, as if afraid he will disappear if she lets go.

seulgi comes right behind her wife, snaking her arms around both her grandson and joohyun’s forms. “drop the formalities around us, baby! come, let’s have brunch and we can chat and catch up. your grandmother has been worried sick when this dashing young man appeared in our study out of nowhere, telling us he is your husband! you could have written us about the wedding, darling!”

giving the woman a bashful smile, hajoon looks towards the warlock for support, only to find that dojoon is already seated at the table, eyes wide as he scans the variety of fruits; only the fruits. “it was… a spur of the moment type of decision, you know? he just proposed, i said yes and we got married soon after. only woosung and jaehyeong were present, so don’t feel bad about it please,” he reassures her. seulgi seems to believe him, but joohyun narrows her diligent eyes before her expression softens once again. “can we sit down please? my darling is quite impolite when he’s hungry”

once at the table, the two women fix hajoon with an encouraging look. he cannot count on dojoon anymore, the warlock to busy stuffing his cheeks with food to pay attention to the queens’ anticipating eyes. the blond bites the bait and asks, “well, what do you want to know?”

“how did you two meet? when did you meet? oh, how are the little plants your mother planted in the garden? did they accommodate to your weather? is that little guard of yours still following you like a lovesick puppy? how is relosea? i have heard rumors of the reds fighting back again… do you want us to help you?” seulgi bombards him with questions, starting off excited but then getting more and more anxious towards the last.

“why did you marry a warlock?” joohyun asks, eyes calculating as she looks between the two husbands.

hajoon swallows a gulp of water nervously, trying to figure out which of his grandmothers he should answer first. if he ignores seulgi’s questions she will pout and if he brushes joohyun’s query off she will know something is rancid in their pretend relationship.

with his cheeks still full of fruit, dojoon snorts next to him. he chews, taking his time, all whilst the three look at him expectedly. once he’s done, the jerk reaches for his glass of water to wash everything down. then, he clears his throat and smiles at joohyun, trying to win her over with just one charming grin. the woman scowls at him, and thus a match of staring begins, but unlike the one hajoon has just had with the warlock, this one makes way too uncomfortable.

“your majesty,” dojoon starts, “i think you know why we are here.”

joohyun sighs, lifting her own cup of tea and sipping it carefully to prolong the silence. “i do not know, warlock. enlighten me, please.”

hajoon can see how much fun dojoon is having from shooting fire at the queen and having her fight back with the same intense glare. he _loves_ it. “why did the relosians curse your bloodline? and why is the curse unleashing only on my lovely lamb here?”

“i told you we should have let soojung know of it before she married jongin,” seulgi says, her eyes hard for the first time. she’s glaring at no one in particular, her gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “hajoonie… we’re so sorry we couldn’t change your mother’s mind about her marriage to your father. we have been warned that their wedding will break the curse but she loved him too much to even think of not risking everything. she was too selfish, baby, but their egotism brought you here so it was not in vain!”

hajoon gapes at her, taken aback. “what do you mean their marriage broke the curse… grandma, what do you mean? what curse?”

“i guess i should start from the beginning, right?” joohyun puts her cup down, looking directly at hajoon. “relosians cursed us, that’s true, but it’s not their curse that made things the way they are for you, hajoon. centuries ago, princess taeyeon had a… pursuer of sorts. he, like your husband here, was a warlock, and he would court the young princess day and night, night and day, showering her with magick gifts and shows of his power, meant to make her see how great of a warlock he was. the princess did not like him one bit, and she tried to let him down slowly, gently, as to not cause the man to let loose of his powers and wipe down erosia.

“he did not like that. that pitiable excuse for a man tried to hold her accountable, to get her to change her opinion of him and accept his love. so he took his anger on her by cursing our whole family. he meant to curse the bloodline by having the next child that will be brought into the world be the end of us, but that idiot referred to the child as a he, instead of they.”

“back then misogyny was at its peak,” dojoon agrees with a solemn nod. “so, that’s why hajoon’s land is dying? because he is a boy?”

“precisely,” seulgi answers him. “but, the relosians helped the princess as soon as they found out of the hex casted on her. their own mages put a second spell on her, and the family, that they would only bring girls into the world, no biological boy whatsoever. and it worked, until our dear soojung fell for prince jongin of relosea, and once their union has been consumed, the second curse turned into nothing, it lost its meaning. we’re still unsure why that is, but either way we’ve accepted hajoon with love and no ill feelings.”

“yes, because he wasn’t ending _your_ kingdom,” dojoon objects, his knuckles turning white with how tightly he is holding onto the fork. hajoon quickly places his hand over dojoon’s, rubbing his thumb over the man’s fingers. “you tried to prevent it, i will give you that, but after your daughter and her husband perished did you take a single moment to think about how your grandson is holding up? he thinks he murdered them! he blames himself for the fall of his parents’ kingdom! did you even try to find anyone willing to attempt and break the first curse?!”

“warlock, enough,” hajoon begs, his voice cracking at the end. he is close to tears; from the betrayal he’s feeling towards his own family, from dojoon having read his feelings so easily that he can tell what he’s been carrying from the moment his parents have passed, from how overwhelming everything is? he’s not sure which, he just knows he will break if things continue to go downhill from here.

dojoon nods at him, expression taunt. joohyun’s own face is hard to read again, but hajoon doubts he would be able to tell what she’s exactly thinking of.

“are you sure you’re not just feeling bad because the warlock that placed the curse was from your family? park jinyoung, sounds familiar?”

“don’t turn this on me, dear, it is you who abandoned her grandson without feeling remorse,” dojoon snarls at the queen, smoke slowly coming out from his skin,

“dojoon!” hajoon yells, making the warlock snap his head to look at him. “enough. apologize to my grandmother. and you,” he glares at joohyun, “apologize to my husband.”

the silence that settles over the entire room is deafening, the tension palpable in the air. joohyun looks shocked for a moment, before she shakes her head and gives dojoon a resentful smile. “i apologize, warlock.”

“i too, apologize, your highness,” dojoon says, barely holding back another snarl.

with that, joohyun pushes herself off the chair and heads out of the salon. “we’ll talk later hajoon. i will answer your questions then, but preferably _alone_.” and that’s all she says before she is walking out of the room, her heels echoing through the empty hallways, the sound bouncing of the marble columns.

“grandma, can i be alone with him, please? i… i need to have a talk with the warlock,” he tells seulgi, who looked torn between bolting after her wife and staying with her grandson to give him more of a clarification to everything that’s just been revealed. she nods, shooting hajoon one more worried glance before she is running after joohyun.

hajoon doesn’t know where to start. he doesn’t know if he should even start. why didn’t dojoon tell him that he’s related to the warlock that ruined his life? was this all part of a bigger plan? was he trying to make hajoon like him so that he could break him down easily? that would be stupid since he doesn’t even like the warlock in _any_ way.

_oh._

life’s funny like that, huh?

“that was the first time you said my name,” dojoon says, looking anywhere but at the king. “i liked it.” hajoon did _not_ like using dojoon’s name. it clearly did not make him feel something he would rather not name and his heart did _not_ leap into his throat just now.

“good for you,” hajoon snaps, “now tell me what my grandmother meant when she said you are related to the ass that did this to me.”

“you don’t have to believe me, but i had no idea. all i know about my family is that my mother disappeared one night and that my father didn’t bother showing up at my birth. i know i have some cousins and maybe a few step siblings, but i’m not part of the park family. that was the first time i’ve heard the ass’ name. none of the family books i still have even mention him! he may have been part of the park family but i think the supreme threw him out and erased everything about him from records.” dojoon looks honest, his determined mien not once faltering as he stares into hajoon’s eyes.

can he really believe dojoon? should he listen to his instinct for once and blindly trust the warlock?

“i want to trust you, warlock, but i don’t know anything about you. how am i supposed to accept this as truth when i can’t even be sure on what you stand for?” hajoon avers, matching dojoon’s determined eyes. he _wants_ to know, nay, he _needs_ to know.

“alright,” dojoon nods in agreement, “tonight. i’ll tell you some tonight.”

“some?”

“as vain as it may sound, i don’t know much about you either, lamb.”

hajoon frowns. “i recall you mentioning something about me blaming myself for the death of my parents and the decline of relosea’s state, something i never told anyone-- anyone besides jae and sungie about. so what does that mean, warlock?”

“i know the sad story, but i’m sure there’s more to you, sweet cheeks.” the warlock winks at him, which doesn’t help with hajoon’s dilemma of _what is going on in there, mister heart?_ one bit. “so tonight?” dojoon asks, smiling at hajoon.

“you’re on, warlock.” the king is wearing a smile meant to outshine dojoon’s affectionate smile with the mischievousness hiding behind it.

* * *

hajoon finds joohyun alone in the garden, tending to some bushes of flowers in bloom. he observes her from afar, unsure if he should approach her yet or if he should just head back to his and dojoon’s room to bother the warlock some more into showing the king how he makes animals out of black smoke. his favorites so far have been the otter and wolf, for both reminded him of the guards he’s left behind in his kingdom. guards who are hopefully not dead.

the queen looks over her shoulder and smiles at hajoon, encouraging him to come closer. hajoon does so, taking slow and short steps to where joohyun is, stopping only when he is half a meter away from her. he bows respectfully and for what feels like hours neither of them speak. but then, the queen breaks the silence.

“hajoon, i wish to properly address the situation and ask for your forgiveness. when your parents died, your grandmother and i were heartbroken, but we let the sorrow blind us from realizing how _you_ must have felt. we never once blamed you for what happened, please know that. if anything, we blame ourselves for not fighting soojung on the matter more.” joohyun puts her gardening tools away, now entirely focused on hajoon. “i wish we helped you without a second of doubt and i wish to make amends with you, hajoon. however, i know we have yet to be considered a good family, myself in particular, but i would like to change this, if you allow me to.”

hajoon holds his breath, hesitant about how to approach this. he has been hurt by the lack of presence from his two grandmothers and he knows that he should take his time healing those wounds, but would that be considered selfish of him, to not accept her apology from the start? he wishes to see her be sorry, to have joohyun and seulgi in his life again, not only when he needs to know about a curse plaguing his family.

“i will think about it,” hajoon finally says, watching closely as joohyun bows her head in understandment. “now, would you mind telling me more about the curse? what language was it in?”

“i’m not actually sure since there are no actual records-- oh, no, i’m wrong. we have one of taeyeon’s diaries from that time if it would help. i can ask tzuyu to deliver it to your room once i find it in the library.”

“thank you,” hajoon says, hostile.

he deserves time to himself, no matter how greedy it may seem. jaehyeong would be proud of him if he knew he chose his own feelings over someone else’s, and that alone is enough to make hajoon feel better.

turning on his heels, hajoon leaves the queen to her own, but before he can walk back into the open hallways and not think of his grandmother and what she did, she calls out to him: “be careful of that warlock, hajoon.”

hajoon looks over his shoulder at her, blinking owlish. he acknowledges the advice with a tilt of his head and then, he doesn’t look back once as he marches the hallways with heavy steps, his heart feeling even heavier.

was he too fast in accepting dojoon’s apology compared to his grandmother’s? what was happening in his heart that made him encounter such ridiculous sentiments? dojoon’s name still weighs on the tip of his tongue, which only aggravates his messy thoughts.

the blond once again finds himself fantasizing about what would have happened if he never reached out to the warlock. the image of his own body bedridden makes him shudder.

* * *

despite everything that went down, the air between dojoon and hajoon is relaxed, calm and serene as they stay on the balcony at night. unlike the last time hajoon was under the bright stars, now he does not feel small and alone. on the contrary, dojoon’s presence makes him anything but restless. the subdued smell of sweetness coming from him became like pacifying ubiety.

“where should i start?” the warlock asks. hajoon shrugs at that, not knowing what he should prompt the man to talk about. “i’m twenty eight, in case you were worrying about having married a century old warlock. the only memory i have of my father is from what my mother used to tell me, but that happened around fifteen years ago, at least that’s when she last spoke of him. my mother was a great woman, but she wasn’t magick. she loved me, i am sure of it, but i know she thought of me as bother more often than not. i don’t condemn her for leaving, i don’t think i will ever bring myself to hate her for that.” dojoon lifts his shoulders as if to say _yeah_. he doesn’t look pained by recalling his past so effortlessly to hajoon.

“is this why you are the _vilest warlock in all known land_?” hajoon says with a laugh, but when he looks at dojoon, there is no trace of amusement on his features.

“who says that? your people? lamb, i want you to tell me what bad things i did. they surely must have a whole list of it if they gave me this title.”

hajoon thinks about it hard, before he realizes he doesn’t know why they call dojoon that. whenever someone mentions his name, they never say anything about his wrongdoings. why is it that he let them indoctrinate him into thinking the warlock is evil?

“i killed, i won’t deny this,” dojoon says after a while, “but it was never the innocent. i’ve learned long ago not to mess with life and death, but some people have no other option than to be killed for what they did. does that make me evil? in some eyes, that’s a given. all that i do with my magick is… relatively good.” hajoon frowns at this. he doesn’t get to remind dojoon that he just said he _murdered_ people, for he continues, “i just want to grow my garden and sometimes curse drunkards who trail after girls in the middle of the night.”

“i don’t believe you… you have so much power and yet… why would you only tend to some flowers and put hexes on asses?”

“you don’t believe me because it sounds unlikely or because you still want to deny that i could be a good person?”

“i--”

dojoon snorts. “you don’t have to believe me, ok? you just asked if that’s why i’m evil, and frankly, i don’t consider myself that. i think of myself as… morally ambiguous.” the warlock shifts his gaze towards the sky, letting out a sigh. “anything else you want to know before you choose to reject it as being true?”

“i’m… i’m sorry, warlock. i really want to trust you.”

“so you’ve been saying, but when i tell you anything you plainly refuse to give it a chance! tell me, lamb, what should i do to make you trust me? give you access to my mind so that you can wander freely and see for yourself what goes on in my head?” the brunet swallows. the atmosphere is tense and hajoon can’t help but feel at fault.

“when i was four years old i fell from a tree while trying to befriend a sparrow,” hajoon says, wishing that this embarrassing secret will ease the tension. dojoon cracks a smile and that’s all the king needs before he begins blabbering about his childhood.

_i once got rain water all over myself because a horse ran past me too fast. one time i brought a stray dog into the castle only to have my father tell me it was a wolf pup. once i found out what death is i cried so much because i didn’t want my parents to leave that i had to sleep with them for a whole month._

the last one brings a few tears to his eyes, the memories of his mother and father holding him close in their arms so vivid, yet so distant and cold. he wipes them off before they can get a chance to fall, peering at the dark firmament through the wetness still there. dojoon remains silent and hajoon thinks this is it. now that they’ve talked they will go to bed and in the morning, once tzuyu brings hajoon the late princess’s diary they will begin their journey back home.

to his surprise, the warlock pulls him in his arms with a gentle tug of his hand, until hajoon is surrounded by his and only that. eyes wide, the king stares at dojoon’s face, his vision not focusing easily.

“i can’t bring them back, lamb, but i promise you will never feel abandoned ever again. cross my heart and hope to die.” hajoon smiles, a tear escaping and running down his cheek. dojoon kisses it away, his lips brushing just under hajoon’s eye, easily catching the drop.

their eyes lock, yet neither makes a sound. dojoon’s hand is resting on hajoon’s hip and the blond thinks that the warlock is leaning up, closer and closer… his eyes slip shut, his breathing stops--

“come on, that’s enough tragic backstory divulgences for the night, don’t you think? let’s go to sleep, little lamb.” dojoon stands up with hajoon still in his arms, his hold on the king’s body firm. hajoon wraps his limbs around the warlock’s torso and neck, clinging onto him for dear life. he hides his face in the brunet’s chest, inhaling deeply and letting the soothing scent wash over him.

once under the covers, hidden from the outside world, hajoon lets himself gravitate in dojoon’s direction, as if attracted by a sizable pull. dojoon doesn’t complain as he turns around to face the king, smiling at him in the dark. hajoon can’t see it properly, but it still makes his face feel hot.

for the first time since the two have started sharing a bed, hajoon didn’t question _why_ he was doing it. instead, he enjoyed the warm body keeping him close and relished in the feeling of dojoon’s hands on his hips.

* * *

“leaving already?” seulgi asks, sneaking behind hajoon as the young king checked to see if they’ve packed everything for the trip home. he and dojoon decided they will ride back and enjoy the travel and its scenery.

“we need to get back home and figure out how to undo the curse, your majes-- grandma. i’m sure you understand.” hajoon glances at their bags one last time before he stands tall and faces the queen. “i’m really sorry for cutting our visit short.” he is, he truly feels guilty about it, but this morning’s breakfast has been painfully unpleasant with him and joohyun both ignoring each other while seulgi tried to make conversation every now and again. he would rather not have a repeat of that anytime soon.

“it’s ok, baby,” the woman says, hand hovering above hajoon’s shoulder, unsure if she should pull him in for a hug or not. he does it for her, wrapping his arms around her tiny frame and resting his head on her shoulder. “don’t worry about joohyun, okay? take your time with it and if you don’t want to forgive us that’s fine. we will love you nevertheless.”

hajoon nods, his arms falling limp next to his sides. they stay like that for a moment, seulgi rubbing the man’s back gently, while hajoon tries hard not to sob. his conflicted heart aches, but there is nothing else he can do, at least not now. he’s made up his mind and he will stick to his decisions no matter how guilty he feels.

steps pitter-patter towards the two hugging royals, and reluctantly, seulgi lets go of her grandson when prompted by dojoon’s cough. “well then,” she beams, patting hajoon’s cheeks one more time before stepping back, “have a safe trip, baby. write me when you arrive?” hajoon blinks back tears and tries to give her a reassuring smile, but he doubts it comes out the way he intends, for her eyes fall down and a hurt expression takes over. it’s gone in seconds, and with a last grin that doesn’t reach her eyes, seulgi walks to where joohyun has been waiting for her.

the great queen’s cold stare is of no match to hajoon’s heated glare, and soon her gaze settles on the ground as seulgi reaches her side, arm wrapping around her waist.

“you ready?” dojoon has already placed the king’s saddle on hayan’s back and is now pacing around barna as he tries to disperse their bags equally. he’s not looking at hajoon, his brows furrowed at the horses.

“warlock?” dojoon hums. “can i have a hug before we leave?”

the brunet almost snaps his neck with how fast he whirls his head around to gape at hajoon. “what--” hajoon says nothing else, opening his arms and refusing to look into dojoon’s eyes. one, two, three beats pass and then--

\--arms embrace him so tightly that hajoon thinks he will die in dojoon’s arms, strangled by those unbelievably strong biceps. hajoon’s head is devoid of any coherent thoughts, all that swims around are pictures of dojoon’s chest, full of tattoos, with water running down and angry red scratches and blooming bruises scattered all over, painting the monotone art piece with shades of red and purple. hajoon sighs at the thought.

“thank you,” he whispers, his words muffled by dojoon’s blouse.

he feels dojoon press a kiss below his ear, a quick brush of chapped lips that makes hajoon’s skin prickle, heat rushing down his neck. he pushes the warlock away before he can embarrass himself further by getting too excited because of his hot breath.

“we should head home now,” hajoon stammers out, not meeting dojoon’s gaze.

dojoon reaches for hajoon’s hand. he lifts it and presses a kiss on the king’s knuckles, just as chaste as the one he placed near his ear. “yes lamb, let’s go home.”

* * *

hajoon points to the full moon shining just above them, his head close to dojoon’s outstretched arm. he moves around until he can rest it on his own coat, but the warlock doesn’t seem happy with the sudden change. he nonchalantly sneaks his arm under the back of his head, before pointing to the moon again just so that hajoon doesn’t question it.

“did you see it flicker?” hajoon asks, eyes glued to the glowing celestial body. “it means the one you love is looking at it too!” he smiles to himself, rolling around until he’s seated on his knees and hands to look at dojoon. “that’s what jae and i used to say when we were younger… do you think…”

“he’s looking at the star?” dojoon finishes the question, to which hajoon just frowns. “no! do you think woosung killed him yet?”

dojoon blinks at him, almost unsure if he should believe what the king is saying. he opens his mouth to say something, then promptly closes it, only to try again seconds later. except that nothing comes out. it’s like all thoughts have left his head at the sudden revelation that hajoon is not in love with jaehyeong.

 _no way_.

a loud laughter bubbles from inside hajoon, spilling out in bursts of giggles, each one noisier than the other until he’s doubling over, hands on his stomach from how hard he’s cackling. “you think-- you think i love jaehyeong?” the king says in between chuckles, choking on his breath. “i love him, sure, but i’m not the one that truly owns his heart.” wiping a tear from his eye, hajoon finally settles, leaning back on the heels of his feet to look at the dark sky. “it’s just a matter of time until he realizes this too…”

“then… who owns your heart?” dojoon asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

hajoon looks at the warlock, measures him, eyes grazing every inch of his body before he shakes his head fondly. “the moon is truly mesmerizing tonight, isn’t it?”

and for a selfish moment, the blond lets himself think dojoon understands, that he’s looking at him the same way, that his heart is leaping in his chest when their fingers brush as they reach for the water jug at the same time.

“it truly is,” dojoon agrees, his eyes never leaving hajoon’s moonlit face.

* * *

jaehyeong jumps in his arms as soon as he jumps off hayan’s back. he doesn’t even get to stretch his taut muscles before he gets the puppy-like excitement treatment from jaehyeong. he’s holding onto hajoon firmly, spinning him around as if he hasn’t seen the king in years, not just a few days.

“i missed you so much, joonie! never _ever_ leave me here alone with that bully! ever!” jaehyeong whines into his ear, his feet coming to a halt after two more spins. he puts hajoon down and looks at him in the eyes. “he refused to listen to me! that asshole didn’t want to leave my room because _he was fearing the reds would attack!_ ”

the guard continues to huff and puff, grabbing hayan’s reins and hajoon’s hand to pull the king towards the stables to place the horse into dowoon’s care. he doesn’t even pay attention to dojoon, who’s still struggling to get off barna.

hajoon stops the guard before he can go too far from the brunet. “darling, let me help the warlock, will you? i’m more than ready to hear everything you have to say about woosung and his gremlin hands, but let me bring the magick bastard down.”

“is that what you’ve been calling me in your head?!” dojoon gasps, almost planting on his face with how he jumps back from hajoon’s reach. “no! this magick bastard can do it on his own!” feigning hurt dojoon disappears in a mass of smoke before he reappears right behind hajoon, blowing some of the residual smog onto the king’s back. “i’m gonna go in the study. want me to take the luggages to your room?”

“if you don’t mind.”

dojoon pretends to look hurt once again. “using me for my generosity, power and devilish handsome looks again,” he sighs, “i see how it is…”

rolling his eyes, hajoon pats the warlock’s cheek and then lets him be, only calling over his shoulder that he should be careful of the tiny gremlin that may be scouring the halls. jaehyeong laughs only to stop abruptly when he spots something in the distance. hajoon looks in the direction he’s staring into. an animal… an incredibly small wolf…

“there you were!” woosung yells, breaking into a sprint. “i’ve been looking everywhere for you, jae--” the guard stops to catch his breath. a smile spreads across his face when he finally takes note of hajoon. “joonie! why did you come through the northern gate? did something happen? where is the warlock?”

“right here, gremlin boy,” the warlock says, passing woosung barna’s reins as soon as he is done picking their bags. “go with your lover boy and make sure you two don’t bother my dear husband.” woosung gawks at him while jaehyeong makes a choking noise in the back of his throat. dojoon is gone in seconds, not bothering to stay and enjoy the blushing messes he’s left behind.

“well, darlings, lets bring the horses to dowoonie and you two can slander each other while we’re at it. sounds good?”

he doesn’t even get to finish his preposition before the two guards eagerly take the bait, attacking each other with the most childish insults, woosung baring his teeth at the younger here and there as jaehyeong growls in response. he’s missed this so, even if he feels like he’s intruding in something far more special than what meets the eye.

jaehyeong brings up woosung sleeping in his bed again after a while, and before hajoon can sigh and curse how far away the barns are from the main gates woosung does something unexpected. he pokes jaehyeong on the nose, in a way meant to be… affectionate… adorable. and gods if the face the younger makes isn’t the most precious hajoon’s has ever seen.

scrunching his nose with each poke, jaehyeong tries to get away, but woosung is faster than that, a few more years of training under his belt. he wraps an arm around the taller’s waist, caging him like a little bird.

with a sigh hajoon grabs the horses, observing the interaction closely.

“i thought you liked sleeping with me, kitty cat,” woosung purrs, his voice so low that it makes even hajoon’s knees tremble. jaehyeong, in spite of his reddened face, manages to fight back for a few seconds, but as soon as he grabs woosung’s collar, said man leans in and gives jaehyeong a short kiss on the corner of his mouth. he pulls back like nothing happened, like he didn’t just _traumatize_ hajoon, and begins walking in the barn’s direction, hands behind his back as he whistles a happy tune.

“what… just happened?” hajoon asks. jaehyeong doesn’t answer, having lost the ability to that of sputtering nonsensical noises in an attempt to regain his composure. “you have to tell me _everything_ , darling!”

“would you just shut up, joonie,” the young guard mumbles, outstretching his long hand to help hajoon with leading the animals. “just…”

“yes, darling?”

“nothing… we will hold a meeting once you settle back and have something to eat. there are some more things we need to discuss. might want to bring the warlock too.” a switch turns off and changes everything in jaehyeong’s behaviour and voice. hajoon may be naive at times but he can tell something bad must have happened while he was gone. jaehyeong matches his steps with hajoon’s as they begin to walk again.

“of course, darling.” hajoon lets his hand wrap around jaehyeong’s, giving it a light squeeze. they continue on without mentioning the almost kiss the two guards have shared --right in front of hajoon’s poor eyes, as if he wanted to see them kiss. he did, sometimes, but that’s part of another story-- even when woosung pops out of nowhere as soon as they drop the horses off, latching onto the two’s shoulders.

it’s been far too long since the three of them have been this close, with jaehyeong and woosung threatening to impale each other on their swords --hajoon still thinks it may have been some unusual foreplay-- whenever they spent more than five minutes together. he’s missed this.

once he finishes his quick meal the king rushes to the meeting room, dojoon trailing behind with a look of determination on his face. there’s a fire in his eyes that hajoon had quickly realized he yearned for; the glint dojoon has whenever there is a need for him to fight, to prove his worth… it’s addicting and hajoon can’t get enough of it. it’s almost as if he can taste the fire on his tongue, can feel it tingle under his skin.

“you won’t burn anything, warlock,” he says to him just before dojoon can open the door to the meeting room.

dojoon smirks at him, holding the diary out in front of hajoon’s face. “yes, honey bun, i know how to behave. besides, i wouldn’t dream of hurting that pretty face of yours now, would i?” his hand lifts to caress the king’s cheek. the touch is both hot and cold and it makes hajoon want to keep it there for as long as possible.

at the same time hajoon pushes him away, glaring at the warlock, the door swings open, nearly hitting them with just how much force chaeyoung used. “good, you’re here. stop stalling around and get inside, we have news for you.”

hajoon smiles at her, seemingly unbothered by her anxious tone. “great! we also have news!” he says cheerily, hauling dojoon inside and seating him right next to his side. hajoon decides to play dumb, in hopes that his act will ease the tense air. “who should start? i reckon you guys, since you look quite… troubled…”

chan breaks the silence. “the reds tried to attack us while you were gone…” the king does a quick head count of his trusted guards, but they all seem to be in one piece with almost no cuts or bruises on their faces and arms. “no one got hurt!”

“but they had magick, your highness!” younghyun rushes to say, eyes flying to dojoon before settling back on the king. “ _elemental_ magick.” dojoon perks at that, a frown appearing on his face.

“did you see the person using it? were there more?”

“i tried to restrain him but he was strong,” younghyun looks at the table, scratching his hand nervously. “he controlled fire, i’m sure of that. i don’t know about the other elements, but they were quite reckless to let the magick user roam the castle alone.”

“no they weren’t,” dojoon mumbles. his eyes shoot up, looking over the soldier’s faces, only stopping at younghyun, “fire magick is like a time bomb. they’re downright violent, volatile. one wrong move and they can blow up a whole house. they sent him on a suicide mission…”

“do you think he may be innocent?” jihyo asks.

the warlock shakes his head. “doubt it. if anything he’s been brainwashed by the reds, but it’s a low possibility. do you remember what he looked like? there aren’t many known firebenders around anymore.”

younghyun thinks it through before a light seems to go off above his head. “tall, shaggy blond and brown hair, akin to a tiger, pointy chin, droopy eyes. i caught a glimpse of his face when his hood fell off, but for most of the time it was covered. he looked quite skinny and had scars on his arms and hands.”

“burned skin?” younghyun nods eagerly. “he was a part of jaime’s coven… the only man from what i remember.”

“didn’t you say you’ve been ruptured from the other magicks?” hajoon peeps in, suddenly interested by the idea of finding out more about dojoon’s past. sure, the idea of the rebellion having a magick person who can control fire is scary, but he can handle fire. or at least smoke.

“i saved one of hers years ago and we promised to help each other if we’re ever in need,” dojoon answers him, eyes still on younghyun. his head snaps to the side, staring at the diary they’ve left untouched. “i think it’s time i ask her for help. she has someone who may be able to help.”

rushing out the door with the book under his arm, dojoon hardly manages to yell over his shoulder a “keep your door unlocked lamb, i’m gonna come over!” which leaves hajoon flushing down to his neck. the guards, at least, have the decency to pretend not to hear it, sungjin coughing a few times, then asking them all, with a rather strained voice, to move on.

all of his guards except two, who just keep grinning at hajoon whenever their eyes meet during the rest of the raport. there isn’t much left to say anyway, just that younghyun fought the firebender and managed to scratch his arm, all before more soldiers came to the rescue, taking the man with them and disappearing from where they came from.

“so what did you have to say, your highness? does it have to do with the warlock and him getting into your pants?” woosung snickers behind his hand, eliciting a whine from the blond. jaehyeong kicks him if the pained yelp he lets out is anything to go by, and hajoon quickly sends him a thankful smile, before he stands up, attracting all eyes on him.

“well, if that’s all then you’re all free to go!” the king dusts off his pants, hoping to buy himself more time. no one suspects _a thing_. “have a good day!”

“wait, wait, wait,” jaebeom stops him, pulling on the back of his jacket, “what did you _actually_ want to tell us?” hajoon bites the inside of his lip, thinking of any way he can just cut this whole meeting short so that he can go to his room and _lock_ the door as to spite dojoon. nothing comes to mind, as if nothing that would make the guards drop the subject. talking about the discoveries they’ve made about the curse would mean everyone asking questions and telling them about whatever grandmother issues he’s just gotten doesn’t seem like a good bonding experience. but then…

“do you lot want to hear about how i bedded the magick bastard?” a chain reaction of startled chokes leaves the king satisfied. “that’s what i thought. now, off to work you go!”

hajoon makes it out alive with difficulties, all in the form of jaehyeong running after him using the unfair advantage of his long legs. the taller man draws closer with each step, and just a few meters away from hajoon’s room, he finally catches up, arms circling around the king’s body to keep him still. hajoon blames the limp he still gets when he puts too much pressure on his wounded leg. the injury may have scarred already, but the pain still shoots through his whole body sometimes.

“what did you discover in erosia?”

“stuff about my curses. who hexed the family, why, things like that. we got my…” hajoon counts on his fingers, “great-great-great-great--”

“get to the point, joonie.”

hajoon smiles at the guard, rolling his eyes fondly at the man’s sudden impatience for his antics. “her diary. the warlock is trying to find more information about how he could break it, so he will be staying here until he’s done!” hajoon pushes back the little voice that wishes for dojoon to stay for as long as possible. _not_ the time to yearn and pine for a warlock. he should at least be alone in his room, where no one can disturb him.

“what do you mean he will stay here? why not just send him back to _his_ home with the diary?” jaehyeong demands, his voice booming through the quiet halls. he apologizes rapidly, looking at hajoon with concerned eyes. “i don’t trust him…” he says in the end, his timber lower, more composed.

“then don’t trust _him,_ darling.” hajoon whirls around to meet the younger’s chest. looking up, he puts both of his hands on jaehyeong’s cheeks, squishing it until the guard looks like a puffer fish. “trust me, ok? you already do, so just pretend he’s not here. he will be mostly in the library anyway.”

“as if,” jaehyeong struggles to say, glaring at hajoon’s amused expression. “i will look after him--” the man huffs, taking hajoon’s hands off his cheeks to speak normally, “like a hawk.”

the king laughs. “make sure woosung doesn’t get jealous of you two then, darling. i really wish to keep the warlock around.”

jaehyeong continues to glare, but the scowl slowly turns into a pout as he gives up on the play pretend. “no promises.”

he clearly did not expect his first day back home to be so eventful, but then again, this is relosea, where not a single moment is wasted on being normal and socially approved of.

* * *

the first time it happens is during another meeting, this one just with sungjin and wonpil as the two provide hajoon with the information they’ve uncovered on the reds and with what has been happening in the kingdom. hajoon has barely gone out of the palace grounds, an ever-present fear of being hit with a rebels’ attack looming over his head. it doesn’t help that his health seems to be plummeting again, something he’s kept for himself ever since he found himself coughing blood a few nights ago. luckily for him, no one seems to see through his easy going smile.

what happens is that he catches jaehyeong sneaking past their room, his sword in one hand while he’s holding a tray full of food and what looks like tea in his other. hajoon doesn’t have time to think about it too much, wonpil engaging in another conversation with him, making him lose focus on jaehyeong in favor of listening to the spy talk about how he couldn’t find anything about the fire user.

he doesn’t think much of it at first, jaehyeong did use to take breaks from training the young guards and bring them snacks if they were too tired and today _was_ one of their practice days, so it made sense for jaehyeong to be running around the castle with food and his sword by his side.

the second time it happens, hajoon brushes it off again, because what else is he supposed to do? he’s running thin on sleep, dojoon spending most of his days and nights in the library, leaving hajoon to toss and turn when it’s time for him to sleep, and a coven of witches is headed his way to help his warlock-- the warlock and the guards however they can.

he’s mindlessly walking through the gardens this time, letting the sun bathe his pale skin and give him some much needed energy, when he catches a glimpse of jaehyeong on the balcony connected to the library. the guard is looking over some scrolls, a cup of tea placed carefully on the rails, and every so often he looks behind him to ask someone --someone hajoon assumes is dojoon-- questions.

what makes hajoon stop, however, is the way jaehyeong breaks into a smile, a beam that he doesn’t let the warlock see, immediately turning back to his parchments. the magick bastard must have fallen or something equally bad must have happened to make jaehyeong smile like that. clearly, he’s not warming up to him just yet. even if dojoon is quite possibly, the most infuriating person hajoon has had the misfortune of meeting, he is still an incredibly warm person, one that makes you want to melt your walls and reticence down with just one greatly aimed smile.

jaehyeong is not that easy to break, hajoon likes to think.

but the problem (should he even call it that, when, if he’s being honest, it would just bring them all closer) is that this keeps happening. jaehyeong spends so much time in the library with dojoon that even woosung ends up noticing and whining to hajoon about it. and while normally he would love to meddle with their love lives, it’s getting annoying.

he loves his friends to death, but hearing woosung comment on how the warlock is stealing his best guard _every_ single time they cross paths is too much even for hajoon himself.

but even with the increased frequency of seeing jaehyeong and dojoon together, hajoon still doesn’t think much of it. after all, the guard said he will watch the warlock _like a hawk_ so it should be normal for jaehyeong to stay close to him at almost all times.

he doesn’t think of it until he’s in the library himself, hidden behind some bookshelves and rummaging through them to find a book on elemental magick. the coven has yet to arrive, but dojoon told him yesterday that they should be here any moment now.

the warlock and the guard have both stepped out of the library, dojoon going to take a quick shower and jaehyeong having been summoned by woosung to help the elder with petty chores, so the king doesn’t bother going to one of the desks when he finds the books he’s been looking for. he simply plops down on the floor, mindful of his light colored clothes, and leans on the wooden bookcase, ready to read.

the first ten pages he gets through are boring, a quick history talking about the origins of elemental magick, and while he studies them, the room is quiet, only the birds chirping outside on the balcony being an indication that he’s still here. as soon as he turns the eleventh page, however, the door bursts open, hitting the wall with how much enthusiastic power the person entering uses. hajoon can tell exactly who it is by the sound of heels hitting the floor, but he stays put when he hears the other pair of steps following soon after.

he’s no idiot, he knows the second person is jaehyeong.

the guard is the first to say something. “hey, warlock, what do they teach you at wizard school?”

“we… there’s no such thing as a wizard school…” hajoon can imagine the warlock pouts. “and i’m _not_ a wizard.”

he can also imagine the way jaehyeong probably waves him off. “not the right answer, warlock. they teach you spelling.”

there is a moment of silence, before dojoon sighs and his heels sound closer to the center of the room as he walks away from the guard. “that was the most awful one so far.” hajoon would beg to differ, it was quite hilarious and it takes _everything_ in him not to laugh at the joke.

“hajoon would disagree if he were here,” jaehyeong mumbles, climbing the stairs that lead to where the king is. “you’re just jealous i make jokes he would laugh at while all your jokes are about burning stuff.”

“he laughs at my jokes!” hajoon hears jaehyeong snort; he’s getting closer and closer to his hiding place. “hey, get me the book by… zhang yixing. should be called something like elements in the world i think,” dojoon calls. the blond pales: it’s the book he’s reading.

“you could say please, you know? magick or not running through your veins at least be polite,” the guard murmurs to himself, moving around the aisles to look for the book dojoon has asked him to bring. hajoon has no other choice but to come out.

ruffling his hair some, hajoon stands up and stretches his arms above his head. with a yawn, he scrapes his cheek, making it look like he had just woken up from a nap.

“oh!” jaehyeong exclaims when he sees him. “you’re here, joonie! did we wake you up?”

hajoon dismisses the question with a quick shake of his head. “you’re fine, darling, don’t worry. do you need something from this part?” jaehyeong nods, eyes scanning the books in the letter z section, only to whine in disappointment when he can’t spot what he’s looking for. “do you know where the work by zhang-- oh! you’re holding it, joonie!”

didn’t he let the book on the floor? he swears he did! is he going insane because of the exhaustion seeping into his bones again? it can’t be that, no.

“oh, i guess i was!” hajoon laughs it off, taking the two steps in between him and the guard and passing it to jaehyeong without another word. “well, guess i’ll be heading off and leave you two to do… whatever you’re doing.”

“why don’t you stay? you look tired, joonie, you should rest while dojoon bores you to death with his research. he didn’t get much yet, but all those incantations he’s mumbling are pretty dull.”

“i should really leave you to it--” the king doesn’t get to finish his poor excuse, dojoon stops him with a pointed look, patting the chair next to him.

“come here, lamb.”

his body moves on autopilot, and the next thing he knows, hajoon is taking a seat and leaning his head on dojoon’s shoulder. he falls asleep quickly after that, dojoon’s voice lulling him into a dreamless rest.

* * *

he is tending to some external problems when the coven finally arrives, and the moment hajoon spots the mismatched group of women entering the throne room he realizes that there are now not one but seven magicks in his castle. how did he end up in this situation he still can’t comprehend, but there are more important deeds to mind for.

the one he assumes is their leader steps forward. she’s dressed in black from head to toe, but there are flowers tucked in her hair and a halo of light around her head which take away the bizarreness of her look. “your highness,” she says, bowing in front of hajoon, “a pleasure to finally make acquaintance. park jaime, at your service.” she takes the king’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and leaving a smudge of black lipstick on the skin.

she’s gorgeous, hajoon would have to be blind to deny that, but there is something about the coven’s dynamic, the way the other five women glare at hajoon’s hand with an almost possessive air to it that makes the blond realize how things are. even if there weren’t other witches in the picture, hajoon would still not look at the woman, not when he has his own magick bastard. his face feels flushed all of a sudden.

“allow me to introduce you my loves,” she looks behind her to where her coven is waiting for a sign of what to do next. she calls out their names gently, and with each new name, another woman nods, bows or just gives hajoon a two finger salute.

yeeun, a flora witch dressed in pretty colors with flower buds escaping from her fingertips and a blinding smile gracing her features. eunyoung, a blood magick user, who looks far too smug about the red that lingers on her lips when jaime mentions blood. jiwoo, their only necromancer and the one hajoon knows not to cross paths with. the evil glint in her kohl lined eyes is enough to make hajoon feel cold down his spine. then there is hyoyeon, an alchemist sporting the same smile as yeeun. the metal accents on her clothes remind hajoon of pictures of the great ones, drawn with hasty moves and almost no details of their faces. the clock incorporated on her arm keeps ticking, like a bomb waiting to blow up. the last witch jaime presents is ailee. the witch nods, but that’s all jaime says about her. no explanation of her magick type, just a name and then the supreme is turning back to hajoon.

he must have been staring for too long, for dojoon coughs besides him, pulling him out of his thoughts. the warlock’s hand rests on hajoon’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. he _knows_ what dojoon is doing and he can’t be bothered to tell him to stop. part of him loves the attention too much, the harshness of dojoon’s hold, the way he wishes for him to just _mark_ hajoon and put an end to anyone’s desire for him.

“right, right,” hajoon mumbles, bowing before the witch as well. “lee hajoon, king of relosea. thank you for coming over to assist my husband. i’m sure you already know what he needs help with.”

jaime nods, eyes jumping from the king to the warlock now and again. “you want to know about jae-- the fire user. well, i will be frank with you, your highness, we thought he was dead.” she says it so casually, but there is a layer of sadness in her voice, one that hajoon can’t ignore.

“dead?”

“he looked pretty alive to me,” younghyun snorts from the side, earning himself a glare from the witches. “he had severe scar tissue on his arms, but that’s about it. couldn’t see his face too well so i can’t tell you if his face was not harmed as well.”

“he was uncontrollable…” eunyoung’s voice sounds distant, as if she’s not truly there, but somewhere lost in time and space. “he was bound to blow up, but none of us were prepared for it. he just… used too much power and the next thing we know jae was consumed by fire… we couldn’t save him…”

“you couldn’t, but the reds did,” dojoon sighs, letting his hand fall from hajoon’s thigh. “so the rebels somehow managed to convince jae to join them in their quest of killing hajoon… probably used your abandonment of him as a way to manipulate him too. gods, that’s messed up even for those pricks.”

silence falls upon the room. jaime’s heels hit the floor with each step. walking to hajoon’s throne, she stops and holds her hand out for the king to shake. it’s flaming blue; a deal.

“we will help you break the curse you have on, little king, so long you help us get our member back.” the flames send sparks as jaime moves her fingers. “do we have a deal?”

before dojoon can stop him hajoon accepts it, giving the woman’s hand a firm shake. “deal.”

hajoon is done feeling guilt and sorrow cloud his judgment and emotions. he will get rid of the curse and assure relosea and his people’s safety even if he were to die trying. his duty as the king is more important to him than some feeble, selfish wish to stay alive.

he can feel dojoon burning holes in the side of his face, can feel woosung and jaehyeong get ready to fire him with arguments why this is a bad idea, why they shouldn’t trust more magicks. but… he knows what jaime is feeling, what they are _all_ feeling. remorse, shame, grief, self-loathing, all because they couldn’t save a person they loved for, all because they _know_ , deep down, that it is their fault those they’ve lost are now gone. he could see it on jaime’s face the moment she stepped through the door, an aura of despair around her, morphing with the golden halo, tainting it black and anguish.

“let me show you to your rooms.”

* * *

a whole week passes before they make any progress on the curse. dojoon had managed pretty quickly to find out that the curse had been cast in a mixture of southern erosian dialect, barian and teoirm, all of them languages that are rarely spoken nowadays, which didn’t help them at all. but it was a start, and that was better than nothing.

many spells later, all thrown at him when he least expected them, they still have yet to find the perfect hex to break the curse. it’s getting discouraging, seven magicks working together to break one single little curse and getting nowhere. hajoon isn’t even surprised when one of the witches slips something in his drink, or when dojoon appears out of thin air and sputters nonsense at him, smoke pouring out of the warlock’s tired body.

he just wishes for it to stop, if he’s being honest. but he’s made a promise to himself when he let the witches in, when he made the deal with their supreme. so no matter how much he hates himself whenever he sees dojoon’s fatigued form, when he finds the witches sleeping in the garden, books sprawled around their bodies, when he catches his guards looking alarmed with each booming sound coming from the library, he still doesn’t give up.

they’ve been having dinner at midnight, dojoon trying to eat without falling asleep while hajoon keeps guard that he doesn’t forget to chew and chokes, when three of the witches had stepped through the grandiose entrance. their presence is immediately felt even by dojoon, who looks up at them and gives them a two finger salute.

yeeun takes a seat across hajoon, with jiwoo sitting right besides her, moving her chair so that she’s even closer to the fauna witch. eunyoung contemplates for a moment, staying behind the two younger witches, before she too takes a seat on yeeun’s other side.

“may we have some tea?” eunyoung asks one of the servants, giving them a dashing smile, nowhere near as dark and menacing as the ones she throws hajoon.

“and some cake if jihoonie has any to spare?” yeeun adds, a shy look on her face. she’s playing with jiwoo’s hand while waiting for the servant to nod or shake their head at her. when they do the former, her timid smile transforms into a dazzling beam.

hajoon finds himself smiling at the fauna witch without meaning to, but he can’t say he’s mad when he feels his cheeks hurting from the grin he’s wearing. on the contrary, out of the six witches, hajoon has grown the closest to yeeun over the course of their stay. they’ve bonded over flowers, the witch teaching the king how to grow magnolias and how to ensure that they bloom bigger and bigger every time.

the necromancer eyes dojoon for a brief moment. “is he dead?” she asks, frowning at the way dojoon’s head keeps falling from where he’s supporting it with a hand under his chin. the woman doesn’t wait for hajoon’s answer, giving it herself, “no, wait, he’s alive. why don’t you take him to bed, your majesty?”

“i will, soon.” hajoon looks at his hands, a warmth feeling spreading across his cheeks. “i was going to make sure he eats some before. do you mind if i feed him?” the three shake their heads, yeeun going as far giving him an encouraging look. “then, what are you doing here? it’s quite late as you are already aware…”

“i wanted to propose a theory i came up with…” eunyoung says, watching hajoon’s every move. the king scoops some of the rice, adds a piece of meat on the fluffy white bed of grain and slowly lifts the chopsticks to feed the warlock. he silently urges dojoon to open his mouth, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. dojoon blinks awake and eats the offered food, chewing it in the most endearing way hajoon has ever seen.

“go on,” the king says, not sparing the witch a single look, too enticed with his warlock.

“well, your majesty… my blood is known to heal people if they ingest it…”

hajoon chuckles, “i’m cursed, dear, not sick.”

the necromancer rolls her eyes at that, something hajoon notices even when not focusing on them. “with all due respect, your highness, but i can feel your energy fading farther every day. your curse makes you sick, and even if you’re bonded to that guy,” he knows she’s pointing at dojoon, “it doesn’t really help with your body. plus, his own energy is pretty low anyway. eunyoung’s blood will buy you more time _and_ bring prosperity back to your land.” hajoon freezes at her words.

the servant comes back with a tray full of tea and a thick slice of carrot cake. the women stay silent while they place the cups down, but as soon as they bow and exit the room to give them privacy, the blood magick begins to speak.

“you’ve noticed the way it’s changing back again, right?” eunyoung questions him, brows drawn together. “we’ve been here for a week and we can feel how bad things are, i can only imagine how you feel, hajoon.”

there’s a lump forming in his throat, making it hard for him to breathe. “this isn’t a plot for you to control me using your blood, right?” hajoon says, finally meeting eunyoung’s eyes. unlike the rest of the time, now they are clear of any mysterious darkness.

eunyoung snorts, clearly amused by hajoon’s distrust of her intentions. “we’ve been slipping potions and throwing spells at you all week and _now_ you think to ask if we want to manipulate you? that’s cute.” she sips her tea at last, a pleased hum escaping her. “i wouldn’t be able to do anything with just some drops in your system. they would just be there to regulate everything that’s out of order in your body. so?”

hajoon sighs, feeding dojoon again just to think about the offer some more. what does he even have to lose? it’s just some blood anyway. “just a few drops?” eunyoung nods and smiles; this one the gentlest she’d shown so far. “alright. i agree.”

he has no idea where she gets the knife from and he would rather not know either way. eunyoung cuts her finger with practiced ease, not even flinching when the blade pierces her skin. she holds out her hand, “want it in a spoon or do you want to suck the blood out?” she laughs as hajoon sputters, grabbing one of the many teaspoons around her and squeezing on her finger until the crimson liquid fills half of the silver spoon.

wordlessly, hajoon takes the spoon and swallows the blood, squirming when the taste of metal hits his tongue, the liquid running down his throat with difficulties. he tries not to gag and reaches for his own tea, drinking what was left of it at once.

he doesn’t feel particularly… healed yet. he only feels disgusted that he had to drink someone’s blood.

“say, your highness,” jiwoo stops him from arguing about how this won’t work, “you love him, right?” her eyes are fixed on the sleeping warlock, his face now mushed into the plate of food in front of him. the others don’t say anything, and their silence worries hajoon to an extent.

hajoon holds his head gently, lifting it slowly as he begins cleaning the rice sticking to dojoon’s cheeks. “i don’t know what you’re talking about, jiwoo,” he murmurs, a fond smile overtaking his face. gods, dojoon looks absolutely adorable, though he wishes he would be sleeping in his bed, rather than at the table.

jiwoo hides a smirk behind her teacup, “sure you don’t, king.”

pushing a strand of his hair back, hajoon leans in to press a small kiss on the warlock’s forehead. “now if you’ll excuse us, dears.” the king stands up, his arms sneaking under dojoon’s legs and picking him up effortlessly. he’s far too light; he will make sure tomorrow that he feeds him until his belly is bulging, full of food. maybe it’s the blood healing his drained body. he hopes it’s that instead of dojoon getting malnourished from the way he’s overworking himself.

dojoon clings to his shirt weakly, mumbling something incoherently. he kisses hajoon’s exposed collarbone, and then he’s out cold again.

barely surpassing the urge to kiss dojoon’s head one more time, hajoon walks out of the dining room, leaving the witches alone to drink their tea in peace.

is he really that easy to read, that even a witch he’s met not even two weeks ago can tell what feelings he’s harboring for dojoon? is he really that screwed? is dojoon truly seeing hajoon’s feelings, or is he merely playing along to whatever game they’re playing? hajoon doubts he will know for sure anytime soon.

* * *

it’s funny how the only times hajoon and dojoon spend together now are during the night, when he has to drag the warlock to his room, sometimes with help from woosung or jaehyeong. it’s even funnier that dojoon, for most of the time, isn’t conscious as he snuggles closer into hajoon’s personal space.

hajoon misses the times when they could actually talk about something else other than the curse or the fire user, but he knows-- hopes that soon things will change.

eunyoung’s blood has proved to be worth it, for the next day after hajoon has had it in his body, both he and dojoon had started looking better. the warlock was still far from being back to his usual bubbly and sassy self, but, at least his dark circles were getting better, less pronounced. that alone was enough to make hajoon happy.

he’s on his way to go and drag dojoon out of the library, having fallen asleep while waiting for him to come on his own, when the ever familiar black smoke wraps around his body. at the same time he feels a significant --yet still borderline _too_ light-- weight being draped over his shoulders. he doesn’t need to look behind to know that it’s dojoon.

“yes, warlock?”

“come with me?” dojoon says instead of a proper answer, or even a greeting. hajoon finds himself nodding without much thought being put into it. he’s been doing this often lately, agreeing to everything dojoon asks of him just because it’s him, as if being wrapped around two guards’ pinkies wasn’t enough.

hajoon doesn’t have to close his eyes anymore when they rely on dojoon’s power to travel, but he still does it. part of him knows it’s because as soon as dojoon notices his eyes are closed he pulls the king impossibly closer, arms tight around his waist, but if anyone else were to question hajoon’s decisions he’d just say that he gets dizzy when the smoke moves every atom of his body.

he opens his eyes to the marvelous sight of a garden. no, not any garden: dojoon’s garden, the one hajoon has only seen through the tinted windows the last time he was in the warlock’s house. he’s not surprised that the first thing he notices are the trees in bloom. there are all kinds of flowers around the framing trees, from rose bushes crawling on the tree trunks to daisies and hyacinths of all colors covering the ground. what fascinates hajoon the most is the flowers… their placements all seem to tell a story.

crouching down, hajoon lets his fingers brush over the blue roses’ petals. they seem to be newly planted, with most the rose buds barely in bloom. they’re beautiful, like everything else in the garden.

“you look like a flower amongst my babies, lamb,” dojoon says, and for a moment hajoon thinks he misunderstands him, or that his mind is playing tricks on him. surely dojoon did not just call him-- “like a rose…”

hajoon is _yelling_ on the inside, but on the outside, he’s cool, relaxed and _totally_ not burning with a feverish blush on his face. “pfft, that’s really romantic, warlock…” hajoon doesn’t refuse to look at dojoon because he’s embarrassed. the roses are too pretty to spare anyone else a look. “did you bring me here to flirt?”

mindful of the flowers, dojoon plops down next to the king, gathering the blond in his lap. “if you want to think that, sure.” the warlock nuzzles hajoon’s shoulder like a cat, blowing a huff of air into his ear when the king tries to pull away in order to get close to the roses again. “but i just missed my safe space…” again, the words are barely audible, but hajoon still hears them.

facing the warlock, hajoon wraps his arms around the man’s neck, tilting his head to the side. he gives him a toothy grin, which makes dojoon smile back. “thank you for bringing me here. and not just because i had a stab wound on my leg and i was losing blood at an alarming speed!” he doesn’t make dojoon laugh, despite his easygoing voice and his charming smile. the warlock frowns, his hands tightening their hold on hajoon’s hips. had he not been tired and in a less than ideal situation, hajoon knows he would feel himself getting aroused.

“you’re always welcome here, lamb…” for a moment hajoon is sure dojoon will lean in and kiss him, but then the warlock looks behind him. “don’t ever forget that.”

hajoon nods, eyes briefing over dojoon’s face before they stop at his lips. he casts his glance away, then, he realizes that this may be the closest thing he will get to finding out more about dojoon’s _tragic backstory_.

“hey, why do you have a garden like this? and well… why do you care so much about it that you call it your safe space?”

dojoon smiles, clearly reading through hajoon’s seemingly innocent question. “my mom loved them… and i just… they make me feel like i’m back in her garden,” dojoon sighs, “when we were somewhat of a happy family.” just like the last time he’s talked about it, dojoon shrugs. he may think of his life as unimportant and just another sad story, but to hajoon this is something of great importance, for he’s learning more about the warlock. hajoon wants nothing more than to ensure that dojoon’s future is brighter than his past.

“i don’t know if you wish to, but you can grow them in the royal garden too. i’m sure jisung would be more than happy to have a helping hand for the plants. my caring skills aren’t as great as yours or yeeun’s yet.”

“i can teach you better than-- i mean, you can still have yeeun as your teacher, she is a fauna witch after all, but-- maybe…”

“i would love to, warlock.”

the bright look on dojoon’s face fights the gleam of the moon that shines down on them.

huh, it must be love after all…

* * *

hajoon hears the screams before he can register what’s happening outside his study. the guards are yelling for someone to go and protect the king while sinister laughs float through the shouts. swords hit each other, the sound of metal clashing on metal making hajoon’s hair stick up on the back of his head. he can register the sound of bodies hitting the floor, of pained groans and quiet sobs, and all he can think of as he grabs his own sword is that his guards, his friends and family will be dead if he doesn’t go there and puts an end to everything.

even if it means dying.

he runs out of his study without a plan, only his weapon in his hand and the wish to keep everyone out of harm’s way. the bodies that greet him are from the reds, all of them. that gives the blond hope.

stepping over the bloodied mess of limbs and knives, he barely makes it to the hallway, where most of his lower guards are still stalling the rebels so that the more skilled soldiers can take out the bigger threats. hajoon knows the elemental magick is here, he can feel the temperature going up with each step he takes towards the throne room. it’s only a matter of time before flames greet him hello.

all he needs right now is to find their leader and resolve this in a civil way, with as little blood shed as possible, though he’s aware that won’t be achievable, not with the massacre he’s walked past seconds ago.

the screams are getting louder, but they’re not hurt; they’re angry, battle cries. he can distinguish woosung’s roaring voice as the man shouts orders, and he can even tell the responses apart. he doesn’t have time to dwell on this, not when he’s still uncertain where the leader --yong chunseo, if wonpil’s sources were correct-- is. he could be anywhere, hiding in the shadows, watching as his disciples get murdered before his very eyes without an ounce of remorse in his soul.

after all, it’s not about who dies while trying to kill hajoon, that's important; it is about getting revenge on the late king and queen, even if it means murdering their son in cold blood.

“come out!” he yells, stopping just in front of the throne room. the shouts are getting left behind, until all there is around him is silence, the constant feeling of being watched and warmth touching his skin, not hot enough to scorch his hands but still a considerable heat. “i know you’re here, yong chunseo! stop hiding behind little marionettes and show yourself! can you really call yourself the leader of a rebellion if all you do is stay in the shadow and--”

a gush of fire interrupts him. he watches as the fire stops right in front of his face, mere centimeters from burning his skin. some of the flames touch his hair, but he can’t bring himself to care right now.

“you’re really using a brainwashed elemental to do your dirty work?” hajoon snorts, taking a step forward, unafraid of the death that’s lurking around the corner, ready to snatch him at any given time. “do you really think my parents would see this as bravery, yong?” the fire magick in front of him is the same man --should he call him a man when he’s hardly over twenty?-- that fought younghyun. he’s wearing what hajoon thinks are the same robes, and he can catch quick peeks of the scars on his arms. it’s a horrid image, and it makes hajoon’s heart ache even more when he thinks about how he ended up this way.

hajoon doesn’t want to fight him.

the man finally steps out of the dark, wearing an evil grin while twirling a knife between his fingers. hajoon has to hold back a snort at how cliche he looks.

“as if the king and queen wouldn’t thank me for getting them rid of their mistake,” chunseo laughs, throwing his head back. hajoon hates the sound so much, but he has to say that the man’s words and his ideas are… quite amusing. is he seriously considering himself some type of hero, meant to carry a prophecy of killing the cursed king in order to, what, bring back the dead?

this _has_ to a joke! no way this sorry excuse for a leader has managed to bring the reds so far, so close to killing him.

“well then, yong…” hajoon smirks at the man, his sword held with ease in front of him, “come kill me yourself!” he expects the fire being blasted at him, and he manages to dodge it quickly, but the heat still touches his left arm. “is that all you’ve got?” he shouts, a maniacal laughter bubbling in his chest. “a boy who can play with fire for you? and here i thought the reds would be able to kill me… after all,” hajoon uses his sword as a cane, putting his weight on it as he watches the leader think his move, “you did almost get me in the woods. caused me some pain, _leader_.”

his words are affecting chunseo enough that he forgets to hide his emotions. he can see it all, the anger in his eyes, the itch to kill hajoon here and there, the fear that makes his hands tremble ever so slightly around the knife’s handle. “shut up!” he yells, voice dripping with fury. “i will kill you!”

hajoon can no longer hold back the amused laughter. “oh, chunseo, who would have thought you’d be this funny? kill me, you say? go ahead! but i have to tell you, i no longer fear death, and do you know what that means?” hajoon’s eyes glint with desire for blood, shining almost black. “that i’m ready to risk everything!”

he attacks while the man is still planning, jae unsure if he should blast hajoon off or not, given that chunseo hasn’t told him what to do next. with three steps he manages to reach the man, swinging his sword and landing a cut right on chunseo’s arm. with the short length of his legs he has no other option than to fight close combat, and if hajoon can cause enough damage on his arm… maybe once disarmed he could talk with chunseo and find out his intentions.

no, there’s no use talking anymore. all hajoon can do is fight and hope that he won’t have to kill jae too. he has a deal to fulfill.

chunseo doesn’t drop his knife. he smirks at hajoon, the same evil look in his eyes, and shifts the blade to his other hand, swaying his uninjured arm around and almost touching hajoon with the tip of the knife. he’s too close, hajoon needs to--

fire burns his back, caging him here. hajoon looks behind him; the fire is close, _too_ close. he can’t run back and his only option is to fight chunseo until he kills him. he has to stall these two, or else who knows what chunseo is ready to order jae. he would rather be the only one that burns alive.

the knife pierces his stomach just as the doors burst open, more shouting coming through. he can’t hear anything except for the fire cracking, as blood rushes to his ears. he think someone is screaming his name, a painful sob choking their voice, but he can’t be sure if it’s true or not.

hajoon falls to his knees, the knife twisting painfully in his wound, as the fire continues to burn his back. no, it’s not burning anymore. the pain is just the consequence he has to deal with. the fire is gone before his knees hit the floor, and as soon as his head slams onto the cold marble, he’s out, no longer able to feel the warm hands cradling his head, nor the tears that land right on his face, the man above him sobbing uncontrollably as he whispers _i love you_ ’s and _please don’t leave me_ ’s.

* * *

hajoon doesn’t wake up to screaming nor to crying. instead, he comes back to his senses with sore muscles and as soon as he opens his eyes he’s greeted with the sight of woosung and jaehyeong sleeping besides his bed, while eunyoung is getting ready to cut her hand. there’s a cup underneath, which can only mean one thing.

“you’re gonna make me drink your blood again?” hajoon groans, burying his face in his pillow. he tries not to turn on his stomach.

eunyoung grins at him, holding a glass of water out for him to take. hajoon sits up, grabbing it with quivering hands. he drinks it in two gulps, droplets running down his chin with how fast he’s downing the liquid. he doesn’t even notice the taste of blood until the last swallow. he cringes, but this time it wasn’t as bad as the last occasion where he drank the witch’s blood.

“where are the others?”

eunyoung takes a seat on the edge of his bed, looking towards the door. “some are sleeping, some are guarding you… no one died, if that’s what you’re worried about.” the king lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “but… your little warlock… he left as soon as he made sure you’d live.”

“what?” hajoon can’t believe her. “what do you mean he left?”

“i mean he disappeared in his sea of smoke and didn’t come back in two days. pretty guard,” she points to jaehyeong with her chin, “tried to look for him but he couldn’t find nothing. jaime tried to locate him as well, but she couldn’t feel him anywhere.” when she notices the panic evident in hajoon’s eyes, she rushes to continue, “but he’s not dead! jiwoo can tell he’s alive… somewhere!”

the woman runs a hand through her short hair, looking more and more conflicted about hajoon’s worry. then, she hugs him tightly, rubbing his back and whispering in his ear, “he will be fine, joonie. he wasn’t injured. just scared, probably guilty…”

hajoon should be the one feeling guilty, yet here dojoon was, away from him, hiding and letting contrition consume him. hajoon pushes himself out of the bed, only for his knees to give out under his weight. the witch catches him easily, pressing him back into the sheets.

“you’re not fully healed yet. besides--” shuffling behind her stops the woman, and when she looks back, hajoon following her line of vision, neither are surprised by the sight of woosung and jaehyeong jumping from the chairs and rushing to hajoon’s side. “i’ll let you three talk. the coven will come later… jaime needs to speak with you, your highness.”

before hajoon can ask her any more questions, his two guards wrap their arms around the confused king, going on and on about how he should have waited for them and how hajoon was far too reckless and he should be happy he got out alive. hajoon solely nods along to their scoldings, his mind somewhere else, with a certain warlock that has had too much weight put on his shoulders.

only when jaehyeong squeezes his hand back does he realize he’s been clutching it so hard that he’s made the younger’s fingers turn a purple shade.

“don’t worry about him, joonie,” jaehyeong says, running his thumb over hajoon’s knuckles, “he will come back. he has to.”

“if he doesn’t, i’ll kill him myself,” woosung mumbles, his own fingers stroking hajoon’s other hand. “that bastard may have broken the curse but that doesn’t mean he gets to leave you alone because--”

“he broke the curse?” woosung nods, looking at jaehyeong. he’s silently asking the younger guard if they should inform him of the state he’s in, but hajoon will not have any of their weird soulmate telepathy. “tell me everything that happened after i passed out, or else gods help me, i will fight both of you with everything i have.”

“well,” jaehyeong rubs his neck, “you passed out as soon as the witches--”

“and warlock!” hajoon protests.

“and warlock, yes, darling, he reminded me one too many times, i wouldn’t forget about that. anyway, as soon as they got to the throne room. jiwoo could feel someone’s soul presence disappear and well, the good news is that it wasn’t you. the fire boy on the other hand… he burned his hands and face pretty badly, and his torso isn’t in a better condition. he quickly passed out after you did, but he’s fine now. younghyun and jaime are watching over him.

“chunseo stabbed you, i’m sure you remember that… you did manage to cut his arm and soon after that ailee was able to bind him and absorb most of his power…”

“he’s dead now, but the prick deserved it,” woosung spits out, “he honestly deserved a slower, more painful death. he hurt so many people and for what…”

“to kill me,” hajoon laughs.

the two guards glare at him, and hajoon promptly shuts up. he gives them an apologetic smile even though he _is_ right. chunseo did do everything in his power to kill him and yet he failed miserably.

woosung rolls his eyes at the king and he takes jaehyeong’s place as the storyteller. “we’re not entirely sure _how_ dojoon broke the curse. but the moment he saw you falling it was as if hell broke loose… the whole room got swallowed by smoke and we could barely see anything in front of us. the only way we knew he got to you was because he started chanting your name--”

“like a prayer,” jaehyeong says.

“like that. when the smoke did clear up, you were already in his arms, and you looked-- you looked healthier, which in retrospect shouldn’t be possible given the condition you were in, but hajoon, your skin was glowing! and your ring-- gods, your rings were blinding us!”

hajoon’s eyes fall to his hand. the ring is no longer fully red. the small dot of blue grew, and now, the two colors blended together perfectly. it was… breathtakingly splendid. magick.

“and how do you know he _did_ break the curse?”

“he told us,” jaehyeong answers him like it’s the most obvious thing. “more like cried it out and apologized continuously for sucking too much of your power out and going berserk. but jaime did check on you… you’re no longer hexed, joonie. and the land is doing great! it’s crazy!”

the blond cannot believe this.

“and he just… left?”

woosung nods, while jaehyeong squeezes his hand once more. “we’re sorry, joonie. but he will come back! if not, woosung did say he will kill him himself!”

the words are meant to make him happy, to give hajoon hope. but all he can think of right now is the way he misses dojoon’s warmth next to him, his comforting touches, the way the warlock’s hands were always brushing over hajoon’s skin. the mellow smell of flowers still lingers on his bedsheets, but hajoon knows it will be gone soon enough.

dojoon did say he will leave as soon as the curse was lifted, so maybe he’s just fulfilling his promise. next thing he knows, his soul will no longer be bound to that of the warlock. hajoon from a few months ago would have been happy to get rid of dojoon, but present hajoon can’t push away the heartache making his chest tighten with every breath.

the warlock will come back… he has to…

at least that’s what the king keeps telling himself.

* * *

it takes hajoon two whole weeks of missing dojoon before he actually gets to courage to seek the warlock out. his first attempts of looking for him prove to be futile. he’s nowhere to be found; the faes and elves can’t help him look in the woods, and hajoon is losing hope quickly. not even attempting to summon the warlock helps, though he knew that reciting the runes on his ring wouldn’t be of much help to bring dojoon to him.

“why don’t you look for him in a place you know for sure he will hide?” yeeun asks him one morning, while they are both watching the guards and the witches duel. the coven has remained as part of hajoon’s troop, the supreme being too worried about the king’s health to leave. it also didn’t help that younghyun has developed a weird need to protect the fire magick user with all his might, something that jaime had yet to agree with.

“i looked everywhere for him, yeeun, i doubt he wants me to find him. if he did he would have stayed hidden in plain sight… but to me it just seems like he gave up on us.”

yeeun rolls her eyes, and simply slaps him on the back --too forcefully for someone who still had his burnt skin healing-- before saying, “just think about his… i don’t know, comfort zone? he must have a place where he feels at home, besides his home.” hajoon’s eyes snap upwards, an idea webbing in his mind. “ah, i take it you figured it out?”

“i-- i have to go!”

the blond isn’t sure how he manages to run past jaehyeong and woosung without the guards tackling him and demanding that they go together, but as soon as he makes it into the woods, he’s sprinting and he can’t stop.

he has no idea where dojoon’s home actually is, but there is something, a pull at his body, an attraction that guides him through the forest, through the rivers and past fallen trees. the pull keeps leading him deeper and deeper into the darkening woods, until finally, his soul feels complete when he spots his warlock lying in between his flowers.

“dojoon!” he exclaims, running across the field of flowers and jumping into the warlock’s arms. tears are running down his cheeks and his leg and back hurt from the strain, but none of it matter, not when he can feel dojoon’s warmth again. “you fucking moron! why did you disappear?!”

dojoon doesn’t hug him back.

“what’s wrong? why are you--”

“you shouldn’t be here…” dojoon looks down at his hands, his eyes clouded with guilt. “i hurt you, why did you come after me?”

hajoon stares at the warlock in disbelief. “dojoon, did you stab me? did you order a boy who can barely control his powers without hurting himself to burn me? did, in any way other than make me want to rip my hair out due to frustration, make me feel hurt?”

“no, but--” dojoon still refuses to look hajoon in the eyes. placing his hands on the warlock’s face, hajoon lifts his head up. the king’s eyes hold the same melted fire that was once in dojoon’s look. “you said it yourself, hajoon… i made you hurt by leaving you alone after you almost got killed!”

“and you did it because you are an idiot who ended up caring too much for another fool who was ready to die in order to protect those he loves and cherishes,” hajoon says, voice raw and full of emotions. his fingers dig into dojoon’s cheeks lightly, not allowing the brunet to look down and guilt trip himself even more.

“the only reason your disappearance pained me was because at first it made me think about what you said a while ago. do you remember, dojoonie?” dojoon shakes his head, clearly not in the right mindset to remember anything else but the pain eating him alive. with his hands even gentler than before, hajoon guides dojoon’s ring bearing hand up, pressing a kiss on the blue and red jewel.

“you said that as soon the curse was broken you’d also break our bond.” dojoon freezes, eyes stuck on hajoon’s gentle smile. “but i realized soon enough that you wouldn’t do that. well, i can’t say i realized from the start,” hajoon chuckles, “it was more like a feeling of hope, you know? i hoped that you would love me back, at least half the way i love you, and stay by my side even after there was no other reason for you to do so.”

dojoon gapes at the king. “ love you back…”

hajoon nods at him, moving the warlock’s hand to touch his cheek, then down, lower and lower until he stops over his heart. it’s beating so fast, hajoon knows dojoon can feel it under his fingertips.

“so? do you?”

“i do.”

the blond leans in to finally seal their lips together for the first time. a blissful heat spreads across hajoon’s body, as fog eats both of the men, wrapping them closer and closer until their bodies become one. hajoon can feel his soul being sucked out again, but unlike the first time dojoon did his little trick, now it no longer hurts. it’s almost comforting.

hajoon loves it, absolutely wishes he could spend the rest of his life only kissing dojoon. but he knows that won’t be possible, at least not while the king still has to run a newly flourishing country.

“i love you too, dojoonie.”

and for the first time since he had realized it, hajoon isn’t terrified of the outcome his feelings will have. he can only think of dojoon’s lips on his, moving in harmony as his hands sneak under the king’s open blouse, stroking his skin until goosebumps form.

for now, hajoon lets himself trace dojoon’s tattoos and swallow all the pretty moans he lets out. they’re in their own garden of eden, and neither are ready to leave yet.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/cryystal_moon)   
>  [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/cryystal_moon)


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